


Pictures of You

by rsconne



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Clexa Endgame, College AU, Drunk Clarke, Drunk Lexa, Eventual Smut, F/F, F/M, Fluff, Homophobia, Homophobic Language, Kicking It Old School, M/M, Minor Character Death, Nostalgia, Pining, Slow Burn, Smoking, Underage Drinking, attempted date rape, college traditions, facebooking for dummies, fraternities, minor trauma, so much damn nostalgia, srsly it might take them 20 years, streaking, summer jobs suck, the 20 year college reunion fic that no one wanted
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-22
Updated: 2017-10-05
Packaged: 2018-11-17 06:26:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 90,169
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11269848
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rsconne/pseuds/rsconne
Summary: Someone posts college photos of Clarke and Lexa on Facebook, and now they have to deal with the feelings they've repressed for years. And the 20 year college reunion draws near...





	1. I've Just Seen a Face

**Author's Note:**

> So...longtime reader, first time writer. Be gentle :) The twenty year reunion (in future installments) ages them a bit more than I'd like, but ten years wasn't enough and no one does a 15 year reunion.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> *title refers to The Beatles

Clarke stretched out on the sofa and groaned with relief. Her legs ached after a long shift that had kept her running and on her feet most of the day. The prospect of an evening on the couch with a couple of cold beers and American Ninja Warrior had helped her power through the last few hours. She scrubbed her hands over her tired eyes and pulled her hair down from its bun. She twisted off the beer cap and took a sip as she flipped on the TV to see a would-be ninja splash on the spin cycle. _Shit, it’s half over._  
****

**Princess Clarke:** Hey O, just got home. What’d I miss?  


Clarke and Octavia had started texting each other while watching the show to mock the cheesy commentary and goofy competitor costumes; it had turned into a routine.  


**O:** This course is so brutal. Spin Cycle is taking everybody out. How was work?  


**Princess Clarke:** Long. Uh oh, heartwarming story!  


**O:** Oh shit. I’m going with…cancer?  


**Princess Clarke:** Nope. Inspiring kid story.  


**O:** Damn.  


**O:** We are horrible people.  


**Princess Clarke:** Eh. It’s not like we’re betting on it. Ooh, Jessie Graff’s up next!  


**O:** Ok, keep your lady boner in your pants :p  


**Princess Clarke:** Shut it, she’s a badass. And hot. Don’t you judge me.  


**O:** lol ok, Princess  


Clarke rolled her eyes at the nickname. Squeal at a snake on the pavement _one time_ and end up branded for life. She set the phone down and migrated to the kitchen to scrounge a snack. She rummaged through the cupboard with a sigh. She really _had_ meant to eat a real meal tonight, but it had been another wearing day and snatched potato chips from the vending machine had been so much simpler. Longer hours at work the last few months had spelled more missed workouts and fewer healthy meals. She absently rubbed her belly under her tshirt and grimaced. _Tomorrow I’ll go to boot camp_ , she promised herself. She settled on a bag of cracked pepper popcorn and returned to the TV.  


She sank onto the couch and scooped up her phone again, raising an eyebrow at the flurry of texts from Octavia.  


**O:** Holy shit  


**O:** OMG this is awesome  


**O:** Are you seeing these, Clarke??  


**O:** LMAO oh crap, I’d forgotten all about that!  


**O:** Clarke, where are you?  


**O:** Clarke! CLARKE! You’ve gotta see this.  


**Princess Clarke:** Jesus, O, what? It’s on commercial.  


**O:** NO—are you on fb? Go look  


**Princess Clarke:** Ok  


Clarke bemusedly switched over to facebook. _If this is that cat dressed like a shark riding a Roomba video again, I’m going to smack her._ She straightened a bit and frowned quizzically at the red number on her feed. _Eighteen notifications? What the hell?_ The number jumped to twenty as she watched. She clicked on the tab.

[Harper McIntyre tagged you in a photo.]

Eighteen times.  


Jesus, Harper? Her college roommate freshman year. They hadn’t gotten along so well at the time and had only lived together the one year. Harper had bonded with the other suburban trendy girls on the hall—Clarke vaguely remembered much squealing to an impromptu _Grease_ dance party in their room—but Clarke hadn’t really fit with their group. Not enough fashion sense, for one thing—or caring about fashion sense, at least. On a hall full of nerds, Clarke had gravitated towards the supernerds and other pseudo misfits, like Octavia and Octavia’s roommate, Raven. But facebook and the passage of time had lent some perspective. She’d never actually _disliked_ Harper—they just had never really understood each other. And Clarke realized her own seventeen-year-old awkwardness had been a big part of the tension. So when Harper inexplicably sent her a friend request a year or so back, Clarke hesitantly accepted and was glad she had. Until maybe now.  


She clicked on the first photo. “I’m cleaning out some boxes and thought I’d share these photos before our 20th reunion! Love you Monroe 3rd East ladies! Please tag anyone I’ve missed!” A group shot of a dozen or so girls in skirts and dresses of varying floral print patterns popped up. _Oh lord, that pre-Thanksgiving dinner in the upstairs attic. God, Laura Ashley threw up on all of us._ She scrolled to the next, another group shot of eight guys in almost-matching denim shirts and khakis, posing with puffed-out chests and pool cues. _Wow. That’s that dude Mike who bought us booze. And Atom, that guy from my Physics class I totally had a crush on for a hot minute. And—holy shit, is that Lincoln?_ She snickered.  


**Princess Clarke:** OMG, did you see this one with the guys? Is that Lincoln? He’s such a baby!  


**O:** I KNOW! Oh, C, I’m totally digging out some photos. Just wait. [devil horns emojis]  


Clarke winced. Harper’s photos were innocuous enough, but Clarke was far better friends with Octavia. Meaning that Octavia undoubtedly had more…compromising…material of her. She paged to the next photo, another group pose, this time a Halloween shot in the hallway foyer. Harper and—was that Fox?—crouched in the foreground, scowling in football uniforms and eyeblack, looking fierce. Clarke smiled and scanned the other faces. Raven, still a gymnast then, wearing cat ears and a choker collar. Gina, beaming in a flapper dress and long beaded necklace. Ontari…less said about her the better, Clarke thought wryly. Her eyes fell on the next face in a Mary Poppins dress holding an umbrella and her breath hitched. _Lexa._ She glanced at the photo tags. She and half a dozen others were tagged, some with their married names, but not Lexa. 

[Octavia Forrest tagged you in a photo.]

Clarke gulped and clicked on the new link. Three grinning faces popped up, posing in a dorm room doorway wearing lime green facial masks. Clarke guffawed and slapped her hand over her mouth. Octavia, Raven, and _Lexa._  


****August 1994****  
There was a peck on the door. Clarke groaned inwardly and closed her book. Please don’t let this be Anya again about another stupid orientation mixer. Because after how uncomfortable she felt at the first one, she’d sworn she wasn’t going to another one, no matter how much Anya cajoled her. She’d found the public library a couple of days ago and had borrowed a nice selection of murder mysteries so she could hole up in her room and skip out on the next batch of mixers. She glanced at the empty bed on the other side of the room. Not Harper, then. She leaned over the edge of the loft bed and peered around the corner at the door. A slim girl in shorts and a long-sleeved button-up with the sleeves rolled to the elbows poked her head in. Thin, round metal glasses perched on her nose and a mane of brown hair curled wildly in the humidity.  


“Um, hey, a few of us are going to walk down to the Food Lion to get ice cream. Your door was open, so…you wanna come?”  


Clarke cleared her throat. “Isn’t it raining?”  


“Not much.” The girl glanced over her shoulder and then leaned in in a lower voice. “Octavia’s boyfriend dumped her this afternoon and Raven—her roommate—thought this might cheer her up. But if you don’t want to go out in the rain, that’s cool.” She turned to walk away.  


“No, wait!” Clarke never did know what prompted her to close the book and shuffle down from the loft, but in the years to come she was so glad she had. “I wanna come. I’ll, uh, meet you downstairs?”  


“Ok. I’m Lexa, by the way.”  


“Clarke,” she offered shyly. “Let me just get my shoes on.”  


Clarke threw on her Arkadia U poncho and hurried downstairs to meet Lexa and two other girls. Raven, a short, fit, dark-haired girl, thrust her chin up in introduction. The other, Octavia, taller and with longer dark hair and red-rimmed eyes nodded and said hello, and the four set off. It was about a mile to the Food Lion and the late Virginia summer was muggy, but Clarke didn’t mind the walk. She hung back from the other three, listening to their easy banter, but unsure of her place in their dynamic and not ready to jump in.  


“Octavia, he’s an asshole. And we’re in _college_ now—you’d probably split up with him by fall break anyway, and there’s so many more options here,” Raven counseled sensibly, gesturing widely with her hands. “I mean, that Atom dude down the hall is hot. And those soccer guys, too.”  


Octavia rolled her eyes. “Those ‘soccer guys’ have had a revolving door of girls in that room since before we got here.” Raven smiled and shrugged weakly. “Raven, someone literally drew a naked woman on their door in permanent marker. With pubic hair! My mom almost had kittens when she saw it!”  


Clarke snorted with laughter and the others glanced over their shoulders at her before continuing the conversation. “All I’m saying is, we’re young and in college and there’s plenty of guys out there.”  


“Or girls.” Lexa murmured quietly and ducked her head. A sudden silence fell over the other three girls as they looked curiously in Lexa’s direction. She took a deep breath. “So…I like girls,” she said simply.  


Raven nodded once. “Cool. I’ll totally be your wingman,” she said with a sly wink.  


Lexa exhaled a shaky breath that she didn’t realize she’d been holding. “Cool.”  


Clarke blinked. _Huh._  


They finally reached the Food Lion and made their way to the frozen section. “Oh my god, I need cookie dough,” Octavia groaned. Clarke eyed the case. The others seemed to be going for Ben and Jerry’s, but she’d never had it. Plus, a whole pint seemed like a lot. But the chocolate fudge brownie sounded really good….  


Before they left the store, Raven insisted on hitting the cosmetics aisle. “We need facials, guys. It’s a chick bonding thing. Plus, this skin—“gesturing at her face—“cannot deal with the humidity. Seriously, it’s a skin emergency. Help a sister out.” The other girls laughingly acquiesced and they headed back for the dorm munching on ice cream out of the carton. The rain had picked up slightly, but Clarke didn’t care. She felt liberated. Fancy ice cream, freedom, the brink of new things. Sure, it was scary, but maybe it didn’t have to be. The ice cream was amazing, after all. She giggled and stomped in a puddle, splashing water up her own legs and on the backs of the other girls’.  


“Oh, no you didn’t!” squawked Raven, wheeling on Clarke, mouth full of New York super fudge chunk.  


Clarke quailed slightly, “Sorry, I didn’t mean—“ She halted abruptly when a wave of water surged over her shoes and looked over at Lexa, whose eyes sparked mischievously from the unexpected attack. “Shit!” She felt a flush sweep across her cheeks and kicked water back. In a matter of minutes, all four girls were soaked to the knees and laughing hysterically.  


“So Clarke, what’s your story? Where are you from? I don’t think you were at the mixers.” asked Lexa after they’d caught their breath.  


“I went to the first one, but I’m not so good in big groups.” The others nodded with understanding. “But I’m from Virginia, a little town an hour or so west of DC. I think I’m gonna be pre-med. What about you guys?”  


“Probably Business,” replied Octavia. “I’m actually from New Jersey, but my brother goes here, so I could get an in-state rate. And Jersey sucks.”  


Raven chimed in. “I’m gonna major in Physics. I’m from Richmond, maybe should’ve gone to Tech for engineering, but I liked Arkadia too much. And they’ve got a gymnastics program here and Tech’s sucks.”  


Clarke took another bite of ice cream and eyed Lexa. “What about you? What’s _your_ story?”  


Lexa laughed shortly and swallowed. “I’m actually from Florida. I’m not sure how I got here, actually. I got a good funding package, but the transmission in my family’s car went out on the way up here and I had to spend most of my savings just to get it fixed. I think I’m going to go for pre-law, but I like English too. I’d like to be a writer,” she added almost shyly. She gestured at the ice cream. “But I may have burned my finances for the month already. Still,” she glanced at Clarke, “it’s been worth it.”  


Clarke’s face burned slightly, but she chalked it up to the mile walk and the humidity. By the time they reached the dorm, she was surprised to discover she’d finished the entire pint. “Yeah bitches! Time for makeovers!” chortled Raven as they clomped up the three flights in their wet gear. “Meet in our room in five in your pjs!” Clarke stripped off her poncho and changed into dry clothes. She didn’t wear actual pjs, but she figured the red plaid flannel boxers and tshirt would suffice.  


She ventured down the hall and met Lexa at Raven and Octavia’s door. She was wearing a gray tshirt and boxers, too, to Clarke’s relief. “I live across the hall,” offered Lexa, pointing at the open door. “I think my roommate’s at the library, though—Julia.”  


“Really? Classes haven’t even started.”  


“I know, I thought _I_ could be intense, but--” she shrugged. They knocked on Raven and Octavia’s door.  


“It’s open!” came the shout. They walked in to a homey room with a carpet on the floor beneath the loft bed, a small tv, a desktop computer in one corner, fluffy comforters on both beds, and the ubiquitous sink in another corner. Clarke settled into a beanbag on the floor. “Aren’t you going to do a mask, Clarke?” asked Octavia, turning away from the mirror over the sink.  


“No, I want to hang out, but masks actually make me break out,” Clarke confessed.  


“Oh, well then you can get a photo of the rest of us!” announced Raven, dragging bemasked Octavia and Lexa with her and thrusting a camera at her. “Say ‘hot chicks, y’all!’” she crowed, squeezing the three of them together. Lexa winked and shot rabbit ears behind them. Clarke grinned and snapped the shot.


	2. Locked Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> *title refers to Crowded House

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll probably adjust the tags as the story moves forward, but fyi, some trauma and minor character death in this chapter. 7/13/17 minor edits for continuity.

**May 2018**

“Woods.”

“Do you always sound so curt on the phone?” 

Lexa sighed and slid her glasses off and tossed them on her desk. She slumped back in her office chair, closed her eyes, and rubbed her temples. “Hi, Anya. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Can’t I call up one of my oldest friends just to say hello? Do I have to have a reason?” Lexa could hear the snark through the phone line.

“No, but you usually do. What’s up? Are you back stateside?” Anya’s Army JAG career had sent her on stints around the world, including a recent posting to Afghanistan about which the notoriously tight-lipped woman had volunteered even fewer details than usual. From her reticence, Lexa gathered the assignment had been dicey even by Anya’s standards, but she knew not to press for particulars. It was probably classified, anyway. 

“Yeah, the orders transferring me to Fort Myers finally came through. Looks like I might get to close out my 20 there. That’s actually kind of why I’m calling. Have you checked your mail lately?”

“Uh, yeah, every day,” Lexa replied, puzzled. “Look, Ahn, I’ve got a deadline staring me in the face, so if you could just--”

“Aha!” Anya seized on her words triumphantly. “Then I know you got the invite--” _Oh no. No, no, no—_ “to the Monroe Hall twenty year reunion next month.” Lexa opened her mouth to protest—“And you are _going_ , my friend. Enough of this avoiding people. We were some of your closest friends, and from what I hear, you just disappeared on a lot of us.”

“I didn’t _disappear_ , Anya,” Lexa retorted crossly. “With Dad and the job and the constant travel, I just…lost touch.”

“Yeah, whatever, Lex. I was in Germany and Iraq, but I still made time for my friends when I could.” A tense silence stretched over the phone. “Anyway, I didn’t call to bitch you out.” Lexa snorted in disbelief. “But I’m not taking no for an answer.”

Lexa wheeled around in her chair and twiddled a pencil in her fingers. “Anya, come on, it’s been twenty years, I’m sure most of them won’t remember me, and I’ve got a huge work trip in a few months I’ve got to plan for, _and_ I’m on deadline--”

“I heard through the grapevine that Clarke will be there,” Anya added casually.

Lexa closed her eyes. The pencil stilled. _Clarke Griffin_. “Clarke?” Her voice sounded suspiciously high even to her own ears.

“Clarke _Griffin_ , Lexa.” The exasperation wafted off the receiver. “Your _best friend_. Don’t play coy, it doesn’t suit you. You know,” Anya continued on conversationally, “whatever happened between you two? You were damn near inseparable all through college, but then not long after graduation you just stopped visiting her. Come to think of it, I don’t think I’ve heard you mention her name in years.” 

_Oh, Anya…let it go._ “Nothing _happened_ , Anya. And what’s this ‘grapevine,’ anyway?”

“It’s called I talk to people and they tell me things. I am a skilled interrogator, Lexa!” Lexa scoffed. “Anyway, don’t change the subject--”

“Look,” Lexa interrupted, “I dropped out of law school to help Dad and she went to med school and we lived in different cities—hell, different states—and…our lives just took different paths and I guess we both just stopped making the effort. Sure, we were college friends, but people fall out of touch. It wasn’t a thing.” 

Anya hummed noncommittally. “If you say so. She always did have the worst timing,” she reflected.

****September 1994****

Clarke took the stairs two at a time and hustled down the hall to her room, her mind racing. Her first Bio exam was in an hour _and I swore it only went through chapter 5 but then Fox said at lunch that it covered chapter 6, too, and I haven’t read that one yet but if I hurry I might be able to skim through it before the exam so I don’t totally tank my first college assignment and—no. Oh, no._ She froze in front of her door and patted her pockets, then set her backpack on the floor and rummaged through the outer pocket. _No no no, this isn’t happening._ She slid down the outside of the door and let her head fall back against it with a thunk. _Keys. On desk. In room. Locked room. **Shit.**_

There was no help for it. She would have to ask Anya. Again. She stood up and took a deep breath and walked to the RA’s room two doors down on the opposite side of the hall. Music emanated faintly from behind the door. She gathered herself and rapped on the door. She heard a sudden shift of creaking bedsprings, followed by a hoarse, “What?”

Clarke winced. “It’s Clarke. Griffin. Clarke Griffin. On your hall. I, uh, locked myself out…”

An audible groan and a muffled, “For fuck’s sake.” Then, louder, “Gimme a minute.” A few long moments later, the door wrenched open on a slightly older woman with cheekbones like razors and dirty blonde hair that was spectacularly…ruffled. She finished tying the belt of her robe as she opened the door and addressed Clarke icily. “Griffin.”

Clarke’s face flamed and she kept her gaze fixed carefully over the woman’s left shoulder. “Uh, hi, Anya. I’m really sorry to bother you, but I kind of, um, locked myself out of my room and I have an exam in like forty-five minutes and I really need to get back in, so…can you please help me?” she rushed out. 

“Unbelievable,” Anya muttered under her breath, fruitlessly running a hand through her hair to straighten it. “I’ll have to get the master key from the AD’s office downstairs. Wait here,” she snapped, and stalked away.

Clarke visibly deflated and leaned her back against the hallway to wait. 

“Hey, Clarke.” She turned her head at the voice to see Lexa emerging from her own room. She wore a battered flannel tied around her waist and books bulged from her backpack. She pulled the door shut behind her and set her bag down while she paused to marshal some flyaway strands of hair back into her messy ponytail. 

“Lexa, hi. Haven’t seen you around much this week.”

“Oh, yeah, I’ve been camped out in the computer lab.” She cast a hand at the pile of books. “Got a paper due next week for my Shakespeare class.” She looked at Clarke curiously. “What’re you doing standing in the hall?”

“Yeah, that.” Clarke puffed a breath out through her teeth and thumped her head back against the wall. “Locked myself out again. Anya’s getting the key to let me back in.”

Lexa’s eyes widened. “Oh shit. Was she--?”

“ _Yep_.” Clarke popped the p. 

“But it’s like 2 o’clock in the afternoon!”

“I am aware.” 

“Did you see who was in there?” Lexa asked in a whisper.

“No!” Clarke hissed back. “I do _not_ want to know!”

At that moment, Anya emerged from the stairwell holding a key attached to a foot-long wooden slat, her humor not markedly improved. “Woods,” she grunted at Lexa. Lexa clamped her lips shut and nodded. “Ok, Griffin,” Anya growled. “This is the second time this week. I’m going to unlock it for you this one last time, but I swear to God if you lock yourself out again, do _not_ knock on my door. Wait for your roommate, go look for another RA on call, I don’t care, but for the love of all that is holy, do _not_ come and get me. Got it?”

“Yeah. Thanks, Anya, I’m really sorry,” Clarke said meekly.

“Yeah, whatever, get your shit,” Anya muttered, waving her hand at Clarke’s unlocked door. She turned and stomped back downstairs to return the key.

Lexa and Clarke shared an awestruck glance at Anya’s back and then simultaneously cracked up. “See you, Clarke,” Lexa gasped through her laughter. 

“Later, Lexa.” 

*****two days later*****

Lexa huffed up the last flight of stairs to the fourth floor attic lounge and dumped her overladen backpack on one of the tables. _I’ve really got to step up my workouts, four flights of stairs should be a cakewalk. Once I get this paper done, I’ll boost my regimen._ She opened the bag and began unpacking her supplies. She liked working in the attic lounge because it was spacious and close by—unlike the library—and hardly anyone ever came up here, so she usually had the space to herself. She pulled out her notes and began mentally plotting her study agenda, when she heard a snuffling noise from the far end of the room. She hesitated, but then she heard it again, this time more of a whimper. She laid her notebook down on the table and headed cautiously toward the sound. She found Clarke curled up in one of the huge, deep dormer window bays that overlooked the front of the building. Her arms were clutched around her knees. Her face was buried in her arms and obscured by a mass of tangled blonde hair.  


“Clarke?” Lexa asked querulously. She inched closer and whispered softly, “Hey Clarke, are you ok?”  


Clarke startled, gave a long sniff, and lifted her head. Lexa caught her breath at her watery blue eyes and red, puffy cheeks. She had clearly been crying for a while. Lexa didn’t stop to think. She stepped forward and boosted herself up into the dormer next to Clarke, wrapped an arm around Clarke’s shaking shoulders, and hugged her tightly. “Shh, Clarke. What’s wrong?”  


Clarke clung to Lexa’s shirtfront and let herself cry in earnest. Her sobs racked her body and vibrated against Lexa’s chest. Lexa didn’t try to say anything more, she just murmured soothing noises and smoothed Clarke’s hair with her hand and rocked her a little bit until she calmed. As her tears eased, Lexa felt Clarke start to pull away. She gave her some space, but kept an arm around her shoulders.  


“Lexa…shit, I’m so sorry, I’m such a mess…” Clarke babbled, waving a hand at her and wiping at her eyes.  


“Clarke, it’s ok. I don’t mind. I’m glad to be here for you,” Lexa assured her gently. “Do you want to talk about it? You don’t have to, but it might help.”  


Clarke exhaled a shaky breath. “Yeah….” She pulled herself together. “I, uh, I got a phone call this morning from another friend from high school who goes here. She said she’d just found out that there was a car accident last night and our…my…friend Wells…” Her bottom lip trembled and she sucked in a breath. “Wells was killed.” Another sob lodged in her throat. “He was late for band practice and he was in a hurry and they said he took a turn too fast and the car flipped.” She shut her eyes, tears leaking from the corners.  


Lexa tightened her arm around Clarke. “I’m sorry,” she offered quietly. “Do you want to tell me about him?”  


Clarke nodded imperceptibly. “He was so sweet. He played the tuba, but he was so skinny it was almost bigger than he was,” she said with a teary smile. “I tutored him for a little while in English, he was pretty hopeless, but he tried so hard.” She glanced at Lexa sadly. “He kind of had a crush on me, but I just...didn’t like him… _like that_.” She snuffled a little harder.  


Lexa’s heart ached for her. “Shh, hey, Clarke. That’s not your fault. It’s nobody’s fault, it’s just how things happen sometimes,” she soothed.  


“I know,” Clarke sighed, “But it’s just so unfair. He was so good, and he was only sixteen, and now he’ll never get to be any older.” Her voice cracked. “After I got off the phone I kind of spazzed out, I wandered out of my room and locked myself out again.” She looked over at Lexa and Lexa’s heart sank, understanding.  


“And after Anya bitched you out you didn’t want to bother her, so you came up here.”  


Clarke nodded.  


Lexa felt herself melt a little bit. She locked eyes with Clarke, glistening green on watery blue. “Clarke…I know we don’t know each other that well yet, but please…if you lock yourself out, or you need to talk, or you just need a hug…come find me. Anytime.”  


Clarke pressed her shoulder against Lexa’s. “Thanks, Lexa,” she whispered quietly.  


_Anytime._


	3. Something Better Beginning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> *title refers to The Kinks

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter got away from me a bit and went in a (heavier) direction I really didn't foresee writing about. I'm not convinced that I've got the tone quite right. Fyi, trigger warnings for attempted date rape, homophobia, homophobic slurs.

****May 2018****

“Hey, sorry I’m late.” Anya called out as she walked in the door. She set down her briefcase and laid her cover on the table by the apartment door. She slipped off her pumps with a relieved groan and unbuttoned her jacket and loosened her collar as she headed through the open living room into the kitchen. She moved behind the dark-haired woman working at the counter and put her hands on her hips to give her a light peck on the cheek. “Had a hearing today that ran long and put me behind getting to the gym.” 

Raven stopped chopping vegetables and turned slightly to lean into Anya’s arms. “No problem. I was running late myself. We had a little ‘episode’”—she gestured with the knife, making air quotes—“in the robotics lab that I had to sort out. Still trying to resolve that glitch in the AI. Dinner should be ready in a little bit, though. Want a beer?”

“God, yes,” Anya sighed. She dropped her hands and started toward the hallway. “Just let me get out of these clothes.”

Raven cleared her throat and waggled her eyebrows when Anya turned to look. “Want some help?” 

Anya pursed her lips slightly and narrowed her eyes at Raven. Raven put down the knife and smirked in reply. She walked slowly over to Anya and ran her index finger down the lapel of Anya’s uniform jacket. “I don’t see you in your blues that often.” She pressed closer, her hot breath tickling Anya’s ear as she husked, “It’s hot.” Anya inhaled sharply and let her hands fall to Raven’s waist as Raven slipped her arms around Anya’s neck. “How hungry are you?” Raven teased Anya’s jawline with a light, sucking kiss.

Anya stifled a groan and tugged Raven’s hips tightly against her own. “Starving,” she murmured, shifting her head to connect her lips with Raven’s.

*********

“Mmph, this is so good,” Anya mumbled blissfully, a little juice running down her chin. 

“I know, but how’s dinner?” Raven grinned cheekily.

Anya shot her a look, but her lips twitched to repress a smile. “It’s tolerable.” She took another bite. “Of course, I also survived on veggie omelet MREs for a while, so I can eat anything.” She laughed at the scowl on Raven’s face and relented. “It’s really good, Rae.” She leaned over and kissed Raven’s cheek. “Thanks for dinner.”

Raven waved her hand in dismissal. “Please, I’m an _actual_ rocket scientist. Crockpot pot roast is nothing. Anyway, next time it’s your turn.” 

“Ok. I’ll even let you pick out the takeout menu.”

“Deal.” 

They chatted animatedly as they finished their meals. Anya recounted her afternoon in court, albeit a bare bones version to maintain confidentiality. Raven gave an abridged version—much of her work as a defense contractor was classified—of the robot incident and its aftermath that left tears of laughter streaming down Anya’s cheeks. “I mean, I’ll hand it to whoever did it, swapping out the test cannon’s ordnance was inspired. It’s gonna be weeks before Wick gets the glitter out of his underwear. I don’t know how I’ll top it.” 

She stood to clear the empty dishes from the table, but Anya tsked at her and waved her off. “After you did the cooking? Please. I got this.” Raven tossed up her hands in acquiescence and drifted over to stretch out lengthwise on the sofa while Anya loaded dishes into the dishwasher. “Anything else exciting today?” 

“Well--” Raven hesitated slightly, then continued “—I saw Octavia’s post on facebook about the reunion. She and Lincoln are definitely going. She’s totally psyched for it, even posted some old photos of the whole gang that she dug out of God knows where.” 

“Oh?” Anya's eyes gleamed. “Do tell.”

Raven swatted in her direction. “Nothing over the top.” She hummed reflectively. “Although I don’t doubt O has some more…revealing…photos she’s holding back. Best to stay on her good side.”

Anya smirked. “I bet. I know the reputation you ladies had.”

Raven rolled her eyes. “Ok, first, you were _there_ , you know half of those rumors couldn’t possibly have been true. And two, 3rd floor girls did _not_ , quote, ‘run around naked’ any more than everyone on the second floor was a pothead. And three, you’re one to talk about ‘reputations,’ your conquests did the walk of shame in the middle of the afternoon!” 

Anya wiped her hands on a dishtowel and braced her hip against the counter, smiling wistfully. “They totally did.” Catching Raven’s gimlet eye, she hastily cleared her throat and added, “But I dunno, the second floor was pretty notorious for weed. I swear I got a contact high in the stairwell one time.” Seeing Raven still bristling a tad, she backed down. “Ok, ok. Jesus, give me some credit, I was your RA. I knew what you girls were really up to. You all weren’t exactly ninjas, and RAs know more than you think.” Finished with the dishes, she dropped the dishtowel on the counter and joined Raven on the couch. She lifted the other woman’s legs to drape them over her own and settled in comfortably. She idly traced one hand slowly up and down Raven’s calf. “Was there something more to it, though? Octavia?”

“Why do you ask?”

Anya shrugged a little awkwardly. “Seemed like maybe you weren’t going to say anything.”

“Oh.” _She deserves to know. We need to talk about it_. Raven took a deep breath and sat up on the sofa. “It’s not that, exactly. I just…haven’t told her about you. Us. This.” She gestured between the two of them. “Whatever _we_ are.”

Anya’s hand stilled on Raven’s leg. _It’s time. We need to talk about it. How do I do this?_ “Rae,” she began.

Raven cut her off. “Please don’t be mad. I’m not trying to keep you a secret. I just…this— _you_ —caught me by surprise, and things seemed to be going good, and…I didn’t want to jinx it by making it out to be something it’s not or putting labels on it. You know I’m not good at this stuff,” she said, looking desperately at Anya’s face to gauge her reaction. “I just didn’t want to mess things up by talking” _or thinking_ “too much about it and you know how O can be. Well, maybe you don’t, but--”

Anya squeezed her leg to halt her babbling. “ _Rae_. It’s ok. I get it, I do. Maybe more than you do.” She ran a hand through her hair. “Look, I haven’t told people about you— _us_ —either. I even talked to Lexa on the phone this morning and didn’t mention it. And that’s partly just habit. I mean, yeah, Don’t Ask Don’t Tell has been over for a while, but I spent over half my career under it and it’s a hard habit to break. And with the current political scenario and me getting closer to having my twenty years in…I’ve been afraid to risk too much.” _Please don’t freak out._ She took a deep breath of her own. “But what if I wanted to? Put a label on it, I mean.” 

Raven’s mouth opened and closed but no sound came out. “I just…Rae,” she reached over and grasped Raven’s hand. “I’ve never been much good at anything serious, either. To be honest, when we started getting together after that alumni thing, I thought you were hot as fuck with a banging ass and a lot of fun, but I didn’t want anything more. And from what you said, it didn’t seem like you did, either. But--” she gulped and her eyes darted around nervously—“somewhere along the line that all changed. I can’t…don’t _want_ …this—us—to be a fling. And I didn’t know how to say it…and I’m scared to death,” she whispered, “scared to death that you don’t feel the same way. Or that you _do_.”

She took in Raven’s face anxiously. _Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck, I broke it._ “Raven. _Say_ something.” 

Raven’s eyes were luminous with tears. She reached out her hand to cup Anya’s cheek and pulled her face closer until their foreheads touched and their breath mingled. “ _God_ , Anya…yes. That’s— _yes_. I do. Have a banging ass, I mean.” Anya snorted involuntarily. Raven smiled at her softly. “Yeah…I feel that way, too,” she finished quietly. 

Anya gave a shaky laugh that sounded more like a sob. She sniffed and swiped at tears that had started to build without falling. “Fuck, look at me, getting all weepy like some hormonal little bitch.”

Raven grinned, “Yeah, but you’re _my_ hormonal little bitch.” She closed the distance between them and kissed her, keeping one hand on Anya’s cheek and weaving the other through the hair at the nape of her neck. Anya leaned into the kiss, drawing Raven’s body closer and letting her mouth against Raven’s spell out the words that were caught on her lips. 

Eventually they broke apart for air and sat side by side, hearts thumping and minds racing. “So,” Raven broke the silence. “Does this mean I can tell Octavia?” 

Anya laughed. “Does this mean I can tell Lexa?” 

Raven laid her head on Anya’s shoulder. “You can tell anyone you want. _Everyone_ you want.” She shook her head a little quizzically. “I still can’t see how you and Lexa got so close, though. You were such a bitch--”

“Hey!” Anya elbowed her in the ribs.

Raven pushed her back and continued, “—to the rest of us, but not her. I never did get it.”

Anya shrugged. “She didn’t need tough love, she’d already had enough of it.” She turned back toward Raven. “But do we really need to talk about Lexa right now?”

She felt Raven’s smirk against her lips. “Who says we need to talk at all?”

****October 1994****

Lexa’s head throbbed to the pulse of the thumping bass. It was Friday night and some of the would-be frat boys were throwing a party in a room on the other end of the hall. At least the black light hid most of the grime, but it still smelled like feet and boy in the crowded, sweatsoaked room, and if she never heard “It Takes Two” again it would be too soon. She bopped half-heartedly to the music, trying to gauge how long she had to stay to seem “cool,” yet how soon she could leave to get the fuck out of there. She gave it up as a lost cause. She knew she’d stay until Clarke was ready to go.

Truth be told, she wouldn’t even be here if not for Clarke. Atom, the supposedly hot guy in Clarke’s physics class (Lexa acknowledged that he was theoretically attractive, if you were into that sort of backwards-hat-wearing, clean-cut-but-slacker aesthetic; she didn’t really see the appeal) had mentioned a blanket party invite to Clarke—“bring all your hot friends!”—and so she had wheedled the three of them into going.

“Just for a little while? He’s so cute. I know he’s not into me, but…please? I can’t go by myself.” Octavia and Raven both said hell yes. Lexa was far less eager, but she had already discovered that she had trouble telling Clarke no. None of them had much experience with drinking—Clarke admitted that she’d never had alcohol at all—and they’d agreed to keep eyes on each other.

So…here they were. Lexa thought she could see Octavia on the opposite side of the room dancing with a nondescript guy. Raven…she cast her head around. Ah. Raven was in a far corner engaged in an animated gesticulation contest with another nerdy guy from the male end of the hall. Morley? Montel? No, Monty. Clarke, meanwhile, had hung close to Lexa until another one of the ubiquitous bros had asked her to dance. So far, no one had approached Lexa, but she supposed her misgivings about the party showed.

Clarke suddenly popped back by her side clutching a red solo cup. “Lexa! Hey, isn’t this great? Our first college party!” Her cheeks were flushed and her eyes were bright.

“Uh, yeah. Hey, what’ve you got there?”

“Oh, this?” Clarke tipped the cup in her direction and swayed slightly. “The guy I was dancing with gave it to me. He said it’s jungle juice.” She leaned in and whispered loudly, “I think his name is Matthew.”

_You think?_

“Um, Clarke, can I see? I just want to try it.” Clarke passed the cup over and Lexa held it to her lips without drinking, but close enough to catch the burn of vodka. _Wow_. The cup was almost empty.

“Hey, Clarke, how many of these have you had?”

“Oh, just that one,” Clarke replied breezily. “I told him I hadn’t had alcohol before and didn’t want to get drunk.”

Lexa mentally closed her eyes and slapped her palm to her forehead. _Oh Clarke._ “You know, I think these are pretty strong. You might want to be careful.” Her eyes roamed the dim roam in search of maybe-Matthew and finally locked in on him by the designated “bar” area. She sucked in a breath as she saw him slip a twisted scrap of paper out of his pocket and furtively swirl its contents in the cup he had poured. He bounced his way across the room to Clarke and Lexa.

“Hey, Clarke, I got you a fresh one!” He announced cheerfully over the din, pressing the drink into Clarke’s empty hand.

Lexa intercepted him. “I don’t think so. She’s done with you.” She turned her back on him and shifted her attention to Clarke. She half-shouted in Clarke’s ear, “Hey, can I talk to you outside?”

Clarke’s brow furrowed in confusion. “What’s the matter, Lexa? You don’t want to leave yet, do you?”

 _A thousand times, yes._ “No! I just need to talk to you, and it’s _really loud_ in here.” She took Clarke’s arm and carefully tugged her toward the exit. They were almost out the door when maybe-Matthew caught up to them.

“Hey, what the hell, we were hanging out, what’s your problem?” He poked Lexa with a finger.

Lexa kept moving the two of them into the hallway and shifted her body between Clarke and Matthew. “My _problem_ is that I saw you put something in that drink, and I’m not letting her have it!”

Matthew dismissed her. “Nah, she’s just having a good time. C’mon, Clarke, party’s inside.” He reached for her arm.

Lexa slapped his arm away. “ _No_. I _saw_ you. She’s not going anywhere with you!”

A crowd started to gather, sensing tension. “What the fuck? Clarke?” Matthew escalated. “C’mon, Clarke, we were having a good time—who’re you going to listen to, me, or some dyke?” He gestured at Lexa.

Clarke stepped back in confusion. Lexa heard a rushing noise in her ears. She clenched her fists and her face contorted in purple rage. “ _WHAT_ did you just say?” She started to lunge toward the boy until she felt steel-vise arms gripping her tightly around the waist.

“Lexa! _LEXA!_ Cool it—now!” Anya snapped. “Back off!” She shoved her against the hallway wall. “You!” pointing at maybe-Matthew. “Do you live on this floor?”

“What’s it to you?” Matthew sneered.

Anya got in his face. “I’m the fucking RA on call for this dorm and the RA for these ladies. And you don’t live here. So get the fuck out of here. The next time I see you here, I’m calling the police and the Dean of Students, in that order.” She grinned evilly. “After _I’m_ done with your ass.”

“Whatever,” he mumbled, slinking toward the stairwell. “Fucking lame party anyway.”

“The rest of you! This is a freshman dorm! Nobody’s 21! Party’s over, get the fuck out of here!” Partygoers began to scatter and the music scratched to silence. “Lexa.” Anya jerked her chin in the direction of her room at the other end of the hall. “My office.”

Lexa nodded meekly. She glanced at Clarke, standing wide-eyed, plastered against the hallway wall. The hall seemed to lengthen as she shambled down it and into Anya’s room. _Well, maybe I can still go to community college when they throw me out of here…_

Anya glanced over at her as she walked in. “Shut the door.”

Lexa’s heart sank. _It’s that bad. Shit. I’m going to lose my scholarship. I’ll have to go back to waiting tables at Fuddpucker’s¬until I’m not young and cute anymore. I’ll end up living in a trailer in rural Florida with twenty cats and a smoker’s cough. How did I fuck this up?_

“ _Lexa_.” She snapped out of her anxious reverie. “Shut the door and sit down.” Anya opened the minifridge next to her desk and popped herself a beer. “Want a beer?”

 _What the fuck?_ “Um, I’m only 18, so, no?” _Is this a game? Is she trying to trap me?_

Anya snorted mirthlessly. “It’s ok, Lexa. I’m not going to bust you. Frankly, I don’t give a shit if you guys drink, as long as you’re safe about it—nobody drives, nobody goes out without a buddy, and nobody gets unsafe or out of control.” She shrugged. “You’re college students and I’m your RA, but I’m a realist. I can’t stop you, but I can manage you.” Her voice softened. “But I saw what happened tonight when I came up the stairs. Lexa,” she paused until Lexa’s eyes connected with hers. “You did good.” She resumed her brisk tone. “I still wanna talk to you, so you want a drink or not?”

Lexa cleared her throat. “Uh, yeah. But not beer. Do you have any, um, whiskey?”

Anya’s eyebrows shot up. “Sophisticated. Is Jack ok, or do you need single malt?”

Lexa reddened. “Sorry, Jack’s ok.”

Anya’s tone lightened. “Lexa, I’m fucking with you. Seriously, it’s ok to ask for what you want. Or what you like.” She poured the drink and passed it over. “That’s actually why I wanted to talk to you.”

Lexa sipped her whiskey. “O—kay.” _What did I do?_

As if reading her mind, Anya began, “You didn’t actually _do_ anything, but I wanted to talk to you before now. Especially now.” Lexa looked puzzled. “It’s ok. You’re ok. But you’re gay, right?”

Lexa stiffened and almost choked on her drink. She briefly debated throwing the rest of it in Anya’s face and storming out. “No! Hey, hey, it’s not like that!” Anya grabbed her arm with one hand and rubbed the other across her own forehead. “Look, the RAs get a list of students’ backgrounds from admissions and I noticed, well, you were one of the few on the hall who indicated a different identity.” Recognizing Lexa’s consternation, she hastened to add, “It’s subject to privacy regulations. I’m not sharing with anyone.”

She looked Lexa in the eye. “I get what you’re going through. Probably more than you know, and more than I should share. I know you all think I don’t give a shit and I’ve got a revolving door of partners, and maybe I do,” she said defiantly, lifting her chin at Lexa. “But they told me I’d be supervising an upper-class floor, not freshmen, and…shit…” her shoulders deflated. “You guys are puppies. I hate cleaning up your messes, but you’re so adorable.”

Lexa shifted uncomfortably. An obligatory drink did not equate to being compared to a puppy. Anya continued. “I know why you went after that guy tonight. And you were right. He’s a potential date rapist. I’m reporting his ass to the Dean of Students Monday. And I think you would have reacted that way for anyone.” She stopped and shot Lexa a steely-eyed stare. “But Clarke’s not anyone, is she?”

Lexa wilted. “No.”

Anya nodded once, as if confirming something to herself. “Ok. You guys have to sort that out. But Lexa?” Lexa felt her sharp gaze penetrating her defenses. “You have to keep a handle on your temper. That dude tonight? He’s not worth it.” Lexa started to react. “No, I’m serious. Hitting him would have felt good right now, but later…you’d be screwed. I hate it, too, but you’ve got to pick your battles, kid.”

Lexa tossed her head in frustration. “Yeah, but you didn’t—“

“NO.” Anya stressed. “I heard what he said. I _do_ know. But engaging with every shithead won’t fix it.”

Lexa jumped to her feet, seething. “ _What_ do you know,” she snarled. “Do you know the snide comments behind your back? The slurs to your face? Do you know the people fucking with your hair because they can get away with it? Do you know the nasty graffiti about you in the girls’ bathroom? Do you know the assholes grabbing their crotches and threatening to ‘show you a good time?’ _What_ do you fucking know?”

Anya absorbed the rage billowing off Lexa with equanimity and responded simply, “Yes, actually.” She held up a hand to silence Lexa’s rejoinder and conceded, “Not all of it, no. But enough. Look,” she paused before continuing, as if coming to a decision. “I’m going to tell you this in confidence, even though I really shouldn’t. And I’m going to trust you to keep it to yourself, because I could lose my RA gig if it gets around to the powers that be. I’m bi.”

Lexa dropped back into her seat in flummoxed silence. “Oh. OH.” She looked over at Anya. “So all of those hookups--”

“—aren’t always guys,” Anya finished dryly. “Lexa, I get that it’s hard. But this isn’t high school any more, and there _are_ people who can relate. There’s some folks who meet up once a week in the basement of St. Mark’s. Gay, lesbian, bi, confused, in the closet, out—doesn’t matter. Just a safe space where people can hang out and support each other. And if you need an ear, my door is always open.”

Lexa raised an eyebrow and looked at her skeptically. Anya colored slightly. “Figuratively. You know what I’m trying to say. Anyway, that’s all. And now I think I’ve maxed out my quota of encouragement for the month, so you should probably get the hell out of here and go check on Clarke like I know you want to.”

Lexa finished her drink and stood. The burning sensation in her chest had little to do with the bite of the whiskey. She cleared her throat and handed her glass back to Anya. “Thanks for the drink.”

“Woods.” Anya tipped her head in farewell.

****May 2018****

“Anya?” Raven lifted her head and pressed a sleepy kiss onto Anya’s shoulder. She yawned and began unwinding herself from the tangle of sweaty limbs and discarded clothing on the sofa. “Babe, I’ve gotta get some sleep.”

“Mmph.” Anya burrowed deeper into the sofa, muffling the rest of her response.

“What’s that?”

“S’ok if I stay _here_ tonight?” Anya repeated.

Raven let out another gaping, jaw-cracking yawn. “Fine by me, just don’t wake me up at the crack of ass with your workout bullshit.”

“Nah,” Anya shook her head. “Got my workout in on post after work so I wouldn’t have to go in the morning.”

“Oh.” Raven thought for a second. “Wait a minute. If you showered at the gym before you came over, how come you didn’t just change out of your uniform then?”

Anya rolled over on the couch so she could look Raven in the eye. A wicked grin slowly spread across her face. “I left it on because I knew you’d want to take it off.”


	4. Once in a Lifetime

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> *title refers to Talking Heads

*****May 2018*****

The obnoxious noise blared again. Clarke cursed and dragged her pillow over her head, clamping it tightly around her ears. Even the pillow didn’t mute the sound completely. Clarke gave up a clearly lost cause and fumbled on her nightstand for her phone, cheerfully pulsing away. She hit the answer button without looking at the caller id and licked her dry lips to answer.

“What?” she rasped.

“Oh, thank god,” came Octavia’s relieved reply.

Clarke’s brain struggled to process. “O…hey…what’s up?” She cracked an eye to check the time and the icepick that throbbed through it immediately made her wish she hadn’t. _Why are you calling me at…9am?_

“What’s _up?_ Clarke, what the fuck?” Octavia sounded pissed. Clarke struggled to catch up, but the pounding in her head and the slight tremble in her hands made it difficult to process. _God, I feel like shit._ She gingerly wrenched herself onto her back and pulled the sheet over her body. _Why am I naked?_

“O, I don’t know what you’re on about, but it’s early and my head is killing me, so--”

“Since when is nine o’clock on a _Wednesday_ early, Clarke? Aren’t you usually at work by now?” O replied flatly. “Besides, when one of my best friends drunk texts me in the middle of the night and then I don’t hear from her, you better bet I’m going to check on her.”

_Work?! No, no, I switched shifts with Amy this week. Whew. But…_

Clarke cleared her throat. Her mouth tasted like an ashtray. “What…what are you talking about?”

Octavia sighed heavily. “Clarke…check your texts.”

Clarke squinted at the tiny screen and scrolled to her messages. The bright lcd light shot a piercing blade through her skull. _Five messages to Octavia at…1am?_

 **Princess Clarke:** So I booking up a with. This dude

 **Princess Clarke:** At my house

 **Princess Clarke:** Is shit gores bad call cops

 **Princess Clarke:** Drink bit brought dude home

 _Oh shit._ Bits and pieces of the previous evening came flooding back. She felt overwhelmed with shame. “Oh fuck, Octavia. I’m so sorry.” 

“Clarke, it’s ok. But are _you_ ok? What the hell happened? I went to bed early because Daniel wore me out running around all day. I saw my phone had blown up this morning when I got up but I haven’t heard anything else from you.”

Clarke grimaced and rubbed an index finger and thumb between her eyes. “I fucked up. I don’t even know how it happened. I went out to get wings last night because I didn’t have anything in the house--” _and I didn’t want to be here alone anyway_ “—and I had a beer watching the game while I ate. And I was fine when I left,” she insisted. “But I drove past the Brick Store on the way home and I hadn’t been in there in forever and there was a parking spot in front—and you know there’s _never_ parking, it was like a unicorn parking space…so I stopped in to have another drink. And…O, I really fucked up,” she said in a deflated voice.

“What happened, Clarke?” Octavia said softly.

Clarke forced down the churning acid in her stomach and bit back tears. “Uh, I brought some dude home. I didn’t go in there for that,” she insisted hastily. “Shit, I was wearing an old tshirt and ratty jeans,” she wiped back the tears that started to leak. “I just went in there to maybe talk to someone because I was bored and I don’t know how it happened,” she rambled. “I sat next to this one guy and somehow we got to talking about Confederate monuments,” she heard Octavia scoff and roll her eyes through the phone line. “No, really,” she protested, “he wasn’t a dick, I actually had fun talking to him and he was kinda cute. Young, but cute.”

“So what’s the issue?” Octavia asked with a yawn. 

Clarke reddened. “He’s not who I brought home.” She winced at Octavia’s whoop of surprise. “NO, I don’t really know what happened. There was this other dude sitting on the other side of me and somehow I ended up talking to him…and then we were outside kissing and getting into an Uber to my house, and I think I was trying to text you on the DL in case he was a psycho…” her voice trailed off and she burrowed deeper into the blankets. _Because I knew it was a bad idea. Why didn’t I listen to myself?_

“Oh, Clarke,” Octavia sighed. “Was it at least a good time? You’ve been bitching about getting laid for, like, more than a year.”

Clarke inhaled sharply. “I don’t know.” She overrode Octavia’s snorts of disbelief. “No, Octavia…I don’t _know_. I don’t _remember_. I mean…I remember him in my house…in my bed…but I’m not even sure what we did.” She flushed deeply. _Did I fuck him? Did I go down on him? Did he go down on me? Were we even safe? Shit._

The phone silence was audible. Octavia finally spoke, “You don’t remember _anything?_ ” 

“Not much,” Clarke admitted sadly. _Except that it didn’t feel…right. His mouth was too harsh…his face and lips were too…rough. Not anything like…her…_ “He left right after…whatever we did. I don’t even remember his name,” she whispered, mortified. _He might have been married. Fuck. What the hell, Griffin, you are not this person._

“Jesus, Clarke,” Octavia murmured. The silence stretched. “Clarke…what’s going on? I know you’ve been…out of sorts…for a while, but this is a whole other level. It’s not the reunion is it? You’ve seemed a little, I don’t know, distant ever since Raven mentioned that Anya and Lexa would be there. I know I’ve been up your ass about it, but I didn’t think you still had issues--”

“No, it’s not that,” Clarke said firmly. “It doesn’t have anything to do with Lexa. Why would it have anything to do with _Lexa?_ ” _It has everything to do with Lexa._ Clarke grimaced. She sat up in bed and wrapped her arms around her knees. She’d be dealing with the hangover all day; that and self-recrimination seemed punishment enough, but she recognized Octavia’s concern. “I guess all the talk about the reunion, seeing the photos on facebook…it’s just made me think about, I don’t know, _life_.”

“Okay,” Octavia said slowly.

“I mean, I just turned forty, O. _Forty_. How did that even happen? And I’m going to go to the reunion and everybody’s successful and married and has kids and they’ve all got their shit together, and then I look at me and wonder what the hell happened? How did I end up _here_ , still single, with a demon cat?” She huffed in frustration. “It just feels like nothing’s turned out like it was supposed to. I was going to be a _surgeon_ , for God’s sake!”

“Clarke, everybody feels like that,” Octavia reasoned. “I mean, yeah, Lincoln and I have been together a long time, but we’ve definitely had rough patches. And I love my kids, I’d never wish I hadn’t had them. But I do think about the trade-offs we’ve made because of them and wonder how life might have been different. Besides, success is relative—you’re one of the most well-regarded occupational therapists in the area, and you like what you do. So what if you’re not a surgeon? You kind of hated it, anyway, right?”

“Yeah…” Clarke admitted sheepishly.

“Anyway,” Octavia cut her off. “So what if they’re ‘successful?’ Some of them will be bald. Or fat. We, my friend, are still smoking hot,” she finished, with a smirk in her voice. 

Clarke gave a small laugh. “So true. And that’s what’s really important. So,” she changed the subject, “how’s Lincoln? Is he ready for the reunion?”

“Damn right it is. Yeah, he’s excited. Actually, we both are—we never get a long weekend away from Morgan and Daniel, much less one with all our friends. I’m gonna owe my mom so big for taking the kids while we’re gone,” she gushed. “Lincoln can’t wait for the APA reunion, he hasn’t seen his frat brothers in a couple of years.” 

Clarke laughed despite herself. “Is he acting normal? You remember how he was when he pledged.”

Octavia tsked. “Laugh now, but it _so_ wasn’t funny at the time. He was acting _so weird_. He wouldn’t talk to anyone, and ran out of the Caf when anyone from our hall came in to eat. I was so worried I went to student health, I thought he might be on drugs.” Clarke giggled harder. “It’s not funny, Clarke!” Octavia scolded primly. “They told me I might be _pregnant!_ ” 

Clarke howled with laughter despite the pulsing pain in her head. “It was student health,” she choked, “they told _everyone_ they might be pregnant!”

*****November 1994*****

Clarke hummed to herself as she trekked up the three flights of stairs to her hall. She’d gotten held up in the art studio a little longer than she’d anticipated, but it was Friday night and still relatively early. There might be time to catch the last movie at the theater on the square, or maybe they could rent a movie and watch it in Octavia’s room. She strolled down the hall to her door, unlocked the door, and walked in…on images her brain could never purge. Harper, topless, her head bobbing in her boyfriend Eric’s lap. Clarke jolted back in shock, desperately attempting to avert her eyes as the couple convulsed to cover themselves. “OH SHIT! Sorry!” Clarke fumbled at the door and yanked it shut, realizing after the fact that she hadn’t had a chance to change out of her paint-spotted jeans and chucks and she still had her backpack and all of her books in tow. _Shit. Why didn’t we talk about socks on the doorknob? Fuck. What now?_ She wandered two doors down, to where Octavia and Raven’s door stood open, and poked her head in. 

Lexa sprawled in a beanbag chair on the floor, flipping through a magazine. Her hair frizzed wildly and her glasses had slipped down the bridge of her nose. She wore a slightly oversized tshirt and jeans, an ever-present flannel tied around her waist. Raven stood in front of the TV rewinding a VHS tape with the remote. “Hey, what are you guys up to?” Clarke asked.

Lexa glanced up and did a double take. “Hey, Clarke. What happened to you? You look kind of pale.”

Clarke bit her lip. “Yeah…uh…I kind of just walked in on Harper and Eric. Let’s just say I probably can’t go back to my room for a while. Maybe all night.” _Or ever._ “It wasn’t my fault!” she added defensively. “She didn’t give me any warning signals, how was I supposed to know? I didn’t think I had to knock on my own door.”

Lexa cracked up at her discomfiture. “Sexiled! We’re just hanging out. Octavia and Ontari just went down to the guys’ end of the hall. Somebody’s having a party and they wanted to check it out.”

“Actually,” Raven said slyly, “I think Octavia really wants to check out that guy in her econ class, Lincoln. She hasn’t shut up about him since she met him. We might go meet up with them later--” Lexa raised an eyebrow at that, but said nothing—“but right now we’re going to catch up on this week’s _Days of Our Lives_. I tape it all week and then watch in one shot so I can fast-forward through all the commercials and filler,” she explained. 

“You watch soap operas, Rae?” Clarke said skeptically.

“Just this one, cause it’s hilarious. The bad guy, Stefano, dresses like a vampire and uses mind control, and the lead female, Marlena, is possessed by the devil.”

“It really is spectacularly terrible,” Lexa added sagely, nodding her head. 

“Why are you standing in the hall? Come on in and join us,” Raven waved her in.

As Clarke started to walk in, Atom and his roommate staggered down the hall, their arms laden with beer cases. “Hey, Clarke. Listen, I heard about what happened at the party a couple weeks ago—No, man, you go ahead, I’ll catch up--” to his roommate “—look, I’m really sorry.” He glanced in the door and inclined his head in silent apology to Lexa, too. “We didn’t know the guy, he was some friend of a friend.” 

Clarke waved her arm in dismissal. “It’s fine. But thanks.”

Atom nodded once. “Cool. Hey, you guys want a beer?”

Clarke hesitated. “Um, I’ve never actually…had beer.”

Atom grinned and set the beer cases down so he could rip one of the cartons open. “Oh, man,” he said gleefully. “Here,” he handed her three cans, one for each of them. “C’mon, I _dare_ you to drink them.”

“Uh, sure. Ok. Thanks.” Clarke accepted the cans awkwardly.

Atom hefted the beer again. “Gotta go, party’s waiting on me. See you later.” He ambled away down the hall.

Clarke walked into Raven’s room and dropped her bag on the floor. “Really, Clarke?” Lexa said dubiously. “Are you really going to drink” --she turned her head sideways to read the can label-- “Schlitz Ice?” 

I dunno. Maybe. Hey, if I do, you’re drinking one with me!” She stashed the beer in Raven’s minifridge and flopped onto the beanbag next to Lexa. “Scoot over and let’s watch this disaster of a show.”

*********

Raven cut off the VCR when the tape reached the end. Clarke and Lexa lounged on the beanbag chair, their legs unwittingly entangled. Clarke’s sides ached from laughing. “Oh my God, Raven, what did you just make me watch? How can Marlena _not know_ that Stefano lives in the apartment next door and sneaks _into her bedroom_ at night?! And John just suddenly ‘remembers’ he’s a priest? Who the hell comes up with this stuff?”

The three of them cackled uncontrollably. “It’s so bad. But admit it, now you want to know what happens!” Raven said with a grin. She glanced at the clock. “Where the hell are Octavia and Ontari? They said they would be right back, and it’s been more than an hour. I think I’m gonna walk down and see what’s going on. You guys want to come?” She moved over to the mirror over the sink and began to retouch her make-up.

Clarke didn’t really feel like getting up. The chair was comfortable and Lexa’s body pressed next to hers was soft and warm. _And her hair smells nice. Huh?_ She shook her head infinitesimally to clear the strange thought and turned her head to gauge Lexa’s opinion. She raised an eyebrow in silent question. Lexa pulled a face and shrugged. 

“Eh, you mind if we just hang here until you get back? Maybe see if we can find something on TV?” 

“Fine by me, I’m not gonna be gone long,” Raven replied. She blotted her lip gloss a final time, scooped up her keys, and walked out the door.

Lexa scrambled to her feet to find the TV remote. Clarke grumbled slightly at the loss of her warmth. Lexa switched on the TV and scanned through the scant offerings. “Looks like we’ve got…some news report on _20/20_ \--” Clarke made a face “—or… _Soul Train_.” She adjusted the rabbit ears on the TV to try to make the signal less fuzzy. 

“ _Or_ …” Clarke sat up, her eyes alight. “We’ve got those beers from Atom.” 

Lexa looked dubious. “I dunno, Clarke, beer is kind of gross.”

“Oh, come on. How bad can it be? And it’s just one.” Clarke bounced up and down in eager excitement.

“Fine,” Lexa relented. “Ooh, I know! I’ve got some M&Ms in my room we can chase it with!” She brightened and darted across the hall, returning with the package and closing the door behind her. Clarke pulled two of the beers out of the minifridge and the two girls sat crosslegged, facing each other, each with a beer in front of her. Lexa ripped open the M&Ms and poured out a handful for each of them. “Ok, go!” They both popped their cans open and took swigs.

“Blech!” Clarke stuck her tongue out and grimaced at the taste, hurriedly shoving a handful of M&Ms into her mouth. 

Lexa dragged her gaze away from where it had inadvertently fixed on Clarke’s tongue. She smirked at Clarke. “Told you.”

Clarke took another gulp. “It’s kind of gross, but it’s not so bad if you drink it fast.”

Lexa shook her head in solemn agreement. “Yeah, don’t let it get warm.” She took another healthy pull and scarfed another handful of M&Ms.

*********

The door banged open and Raven plowed through. Octavia, Ontari, and Monty weaved in behind her, red-cheeked and beaming widely. “Bitches!” She shouted, holding a bottle above her head triumphantly.

Clarke and Lexa lay on the floor, backs flat, arms spread carelessly, and knees bent. An empty package of M&Ms and two tipped-over beer cans lay between them. _Soul Train_ warbled on unnoticed in the background. The two girls giggled maniacally as they slowly swayed their knees from one side to the other. “Raven!” Clarke exclaimed excitedly. “You have to _try_ this, it feels _great!_ ”

Raven sputtered with laughter. “What the hell are you doing?” She shut the door behind the four of them. Octavia and the others collapsed in a tangle of arms and legs on Octavia’s bed. 

“We drank the beers Atom gave us,” Clarke announced, stating the obvious. “Where have you been? You guys have been gone, like, _forever_. And you found _Monty!_ Hi, Monty!” She called out.

“They had to move the party to Lincoln’s room because Blake’s pet snake crapped all over his floor. When I got there, O and a bunch of people were playing some bastardized version of strip poker meets truth or dare. What the hell was that, O?” Raven asked Octavia.

“Who cares, Raven, did you _see_ Lincoln’s abs?” Octavia groaned. “I can’t believe you made me _leave!_ ”

“Yeah, we know, O, Lincoln took his shirt off,” Raven stated matter-of-factly. “Keep your pants on. Oh! Oh! Speaking of pants, you guys missed the best part!” She continued, her eyes bright with amusement and alcohol. “Just as we were about to leave, Atom, Mike, and this guy John Murphy came in, and they were _shit-faced_ , and Murphy started doing a _striptease_.”

Octavia chortled, “He was down to his boxers when we left.” 

“I’m so glad I missed that,” Lexa declared fervently. Octavia and Raven giggled harder.

“Anyway, before we left I…persuaded…one of the guys to give us a bottle of the good stuff.” She proudly brandished the bottle she’d brought in. “Mad Dog! Hey, O, find us some cups,” she said, rummaging through the minifridge, “we gotta mix it with orange juice. This stuff is _way_ better than beer,” she said to Clarke and Lexa. 

Clarke sat up to take the cup from her hand. “Raven! Rae! I have to tell you something,” Clarke whispered seriously, loudly enough that whole room could hear. She pointed at the trash can next to where her head had been resting. A cartoon Garfield pranced around its sides leaving brightly-colored pawprints in his wake. “Look!” She picked up the trashcan and turned it from side to side. “Garfield is _different_ on _both sides!_ ”

The room broke up in peals of laughter.

*********

“Oh my GOD, did you see that?!” Octavia shrieked. “Rewind it, rewind it! Oh my God, the dog rolled up the roof! Do it again!” She made Raven play the sequence three times before Raven refused to comply any more.

The evening had devolved into drinking Mad Dog and orange juice and watching _Strange Brew_ , a video that Monty had brought. Monty, for his part, was passed out and snoring softly on the floor by Raven’s bed. Clarke’s hyper stage had passed and she slumped once more on the beanbag chair next to Lexa. She had no idea what was happening in the film. She just felt dizzy and her stomach roiled. “Ungh, I don’t feel so good,” she groaned to Lexa. 

“Oh, shit,” Lexa bolted upright. “Rae, I think she’s gonna puke.”

“Get a bag! Get a bag!” Octavia squealed at Raven, who raced to line Garfield with a plastic shopping bag. She shoved him unceremoniously into Clarke’s face just in the nick of time. Clarke’s body revolted and she heaved into the trash can. 

“Oh my God,” she spat shakily, “I’m so sorry, I threw up in your _room_.”

“Shh, it’s ok, you’re fine,” Lexa soothed, holding her hair out of the way. “You didn’t make a mess, you got it in the trashcan.”

“Oh my God, I threw up in _Garfield!_ ” Clarke exclaimed in chagrin.

“No, no, no—it’s fine. It’s in a bag, see? No mess.” Lexa tied off the bag handles. “Hey, you feel better now? Why don’t we get up and walk a little bit?” She looked up at Raven and jerked her head at the door, mouthing _“We’ll be back.”_ “Let’s walk downstairs and take this bag to the trash, ok?” She lurched to her feet and helped Clarke up with both hands. She handed the bag to Clarke and wrapped an arm around her to steady her, which Clarke reciprocated. The two wobbled unsteadily down the hall and managed to navigate three winding flights of stairs. Clarke continued to babble her shame at throwing up “ _in their room_ ,” and “ _Garfield_.”

The chilly November night air slapped them in the face when they stepped outside. It had a bracing effect on Clarke, who simply stood and breathed deeply for a moment. She tossed the trash bag into the dumpster, but instead of heading back into the dorm, she turned to Lexa and said, “Can we just walk a little bit?”

Lexa shrugged her acquiescence and they tottered along the walkway, arms wrapped around each other’s waists, until they’d eventually made a circuit of the building. Clarke leaned her head on Lexa’s shoulder. “I’m really sorry I made a mess,” she whispered.

Lexa squeezed her a little tighter. “You didn’t make a mess, you just got kind of drunk. I’m kind of drunk, too. S’ok.”

“I’m glad you helped me. I’m really glad we’re friends, Lexa. I think you’re my best friend,” Clarke professed with drunken candor. 

“I’m glad. I think you’re my best friend, too.” Lexa paused for a beat. “Hey, Clarke?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m freezing, can we go back inside?”

“God yes, I can’t feel my toes.”

The pair struggled back up the stairs and down the hall past Clarke’s door, which now boasted a sock proudly festooned on the doorknob. “Guess I’m crashing in Octavia and Raven’s room tonight,” Clarke sighed. 

As they reached the other girls’ door, they met Anya coming down the hall from the other direction. Anya smirked. “Party Girl Griffin, huh?” She raised an eyebrow at Lexa and added dryly, “Good luck with that.”


	5. Damn, I Wish I was Your Lover

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> *title refers to Sophie B. Hawkins (duh, Ned)

*****May 2018*****

“Hey, mom! I’m here!” Clarke called. She lugged the bulky cat carrier through the door and deposited it on the kitchen floor with a thump. The cat inside produced a disgruntled yowl. “I know, bud. Just a little longer and you can come out.” She looked around the room as she stretched her shoulders and rubbed her neck to work out a kink from the drive. She didn’t come up often; three hours round trip wasn’t an especially long drive, but she didn’t have the time or mental energy to make it on a frequent basis. Not much had changed outwardly since Clarke’s youth: the autumn gold refrigerator had finally given up the ghost and the orange-flowered sofa monstrosity in the adjacent den was gone, but the avocado green wall phone remained. Still, Clarke couldn’t help but feel that something fundamental, yet ephemeral had shifted since she’d left home all those years ago. It was more than the increased wear on the carpet stairs or the new curtains in the bathroom or the trees that had been thinned in the back yard. The house felt— _smaller_ —and its energy had changed, especially in the past six years. _Wolfe was right, you can’t go home again_ , Clarke thought with a bittersweet sigh.

A trim woman in her mid-60s walked into the kitchen. She wore capri pants and a simple tshirt and her silver-streaked hair was pulled back in a loose bun. She hugged Clarke hello. “Hi, honey. How was the drive?”

Clarke pulled a face. “It always seems a lot more than an hour and a half with Kermit in the car.”

Abby crouched and peered into the carrier. Kermit glared at her balefully and swished his tail. “I thought you were going to try sedating him this time?”

Clarke gave her a level look. “This _is_ him sedated, mom. He cried most of the way up the road. Literally the only thing that calmed him down was Taylor Swift.” Abby chuckled. “Are you sure you don’t mind watching him for the next few weeks? I promise he’s not a demon all the time. I wouldn’t have brought him so soon, but I’ve got a lot going on this week and I won’t have time to drive up before the reunion next weekend—”

Abby waved a hand and shushed her. “It’s no problem, Clarke. I don’t really want to get another pet, but it’ll be nice to have an animal around again. Besides, I’m glad you came up. I wanted to talk to you about something, anyway.”

“Ok. Just let me get his litter box and stuff out of the car.” She headed back outside and returned a few moments later with an array of cat paraphernalia in her arms. “Is it ok to put his box in the downstairs bathroom?”

Abby nodded. “Go ahead. I’m going to make myself a cup of tea, do you want some?”

Clarke answered in the affirmative and busied herself for the next several minutes squaring away the cat. Her mug of tea steeped on the table when she returned to the kitchen. “Ok, handsome, ready to come out?” She unlatched the cage and Kermit bounded forth, whiskers bristling and tail twitching. Clarke took a seat at the table across from Abby and kept an eye on him as he began to prowl. She blew on her tea to cool it before taking a sip. “How’ve you been, mom? I’m sorry I haven’t called as much lately, my schedule has been a little unpredictable.”

“Keeping busy. I’ve been scaling back and delegating some of my responsibilities at the hospital. Fewer surgeries, a little more mentoring. I’m not quite ready to retire, but it’s time to start laying the groundwork for it. I’m making more of an effort to enjoy myself while I still can.” Clarke’s brow furrowed in concern. “Oh, nothing to get worried about, honey. I’m just starting to realize I’m not as young as I used to be. It’s mostly little things, I’ve been going to a wine and painting workshop every month or so with a couple female colleagues—it’s more wine than painting,” she observed wryly. “But Marcus and I are thinking of going on a cruise in the fall.”

 _If only she’d had this epiphany about work-life balance when dad was alive. Oh well._ It didn’t really bear thinking about now. “So how are things with Marcus,” Clarke asked cautiously. 

“That’s sort of what I wanted to talk to you about. I told you he’d been sick this spring.” Clarke nodded. “Well, it was a little more of a scare than I let on—it was a pretty bad case of pneumonia, he finally had to be hospitalized for a couple of days until he showed improvement.” Abby waved her hand to cut off Clarke’s protest. “I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want to worry you.” She exhaled slowly. “Truth be told, I was afraid to admit the full seriousness even to myself. Especially after losing your father. I know it’s been a while—” _six years_ “—but it was so painful and I couldn’t bear to think of going through that again.” 

Abby drank her tea. “Anyway, the whole episode made both of us realize all over again that nothing’s a given and we should seize what we want while we can.” She took a deep breath. “We’re going to move in together. Here, in this house. We’re not getting married,” she added quickly. “Neither of us want that. He says he could never replace his wife, and I always believed—still believe—that Jake was the only man I’d ever marry.” Her voice softened. “But who knows how much time we have left, and we’d like to spend it together.”

Clarke sat back in her chair. She hadn’t really seen this coming, but she wasn’t really surprised, either. She took a few moments and cleared her throat. “Mom…I just want you to be happy.” Abby’s shoulders sagged a fraction with relief. “I know I wasn’t that supportive when you started seeing Marcus—” _I was actually kind of a bitch_ “—but I wasn’t really over dad, and I couldn’t understand how you could just…move on.”

“Clarke, it wasn’t like that, I wasn’t _over_ him, I’ll never be _over_ him—” Abby began testily.

“I know, mom,” Clarke interrupted. “I know that now. I _do_. But it had only been two years and it was still just…” _Raw_. “But I get it now. I see you with Marcus, and you’ve got your spark back, and…I’m happy for you. If living together is what you want, then I think you should go for it,” she concluded with a watery smile. She took her mother’s hand and squeezed it.

“That means a lot, Clarke,” Abby said quietly. “I don’t want to put you through any more pain—I know you’ve had enough of your own to deal with—but this is something Marcus and I need to do. _But_ ,” she noted, “there’s some logistical matters that I need your help with before we can go forward.”

Clarke got up and rinsed her empty mug out in the sink. She wiped her hands on the dishtowel and leaned against the counter. “Ok, like what?”

“We’re going to need a bit more space. I’d like to turn your old room into a joint office where Marcus can keep some of his things…”

“…and you need me to move my crap out,” Clarke finished ruefully.

“Well…I wouldn’t put it quite in those words. But it would be a big help if you could clear out stuff you want to send to Goodwill. There’s some space in the basement, so if there’s things you want to keep you can still box it up and store it down there with your other boxes.”

“Other boxes?” Clarke looked perplexed. “What other boxes?”

“When you moved out of Finn’s—” Clarke still tensed at his name, even after all these years “—you needed a place to store some of your stuff while you looked for a new place. There’s still some boxes down there. I thought you knew,” Abby said.

Clarke shook her head. “No, I must have forgotten about them. But tell you what, I’ve got some time this afternoon before I have to head back home. I’ll take a quick look and if it’s stuff I can use, I’ll take it and get it out of here.”

*********

Three hours later, Clarke had sifted through all but one of the leftover boxes. The majority of them consisted of a hodgepodge of housewares (donate), assorted pairs of shoes (donate), old medical journals (trash), art supplies (salvage and keep), and old financial records (shred). She wiped the grime off her face and shifted the stack aside to reach the final box. She felt an uneasy lurch at seeing it labelled “College—Keep” across the top. She sat on the floor and opened the box flaps. On top, she found her hood and mortarboard, carefully wrapped in plastic. She lifted them out and set them aside, smiling. Her smile froze and turned wistful as she took in the pile of photographs, letters, and postcards jumbled haphazardly below. She picked up a few of the photos on top and flipped through them: a snap of a Physics book with a broken spine lying on the sidewalk. A collection of a dozen or more empty Mad Dog and Boone’s Farm bottles, proudly assembled into a still life. Jasper and Octavia hugging cheek-to-cheek with cheesy grins for the camera, cuddling—was that a Lee Greenwood CD?—between them. A group shot of six or seven of them in a dim room, squeezed together, beaming mightily and toasting the camera. 

*****May 1995*****

Clarke burst into Lexa’s room and collapsed onto her bed, flopping her arm dramatically across her face. “Oh my God, my brain hurts!” 

Lexa chuckled and turned away from the notes on her desk, pretending not to notice how Clarke’s blonde hair splayed across the comforter and her cut-off jean shorts rode up her thighs. “How did it go?” 

Clarke waved her hand side to side. “Eh. Not great. One of the questions I had no clue how to answer, but I think I muddled through the rest. I think I’ll get some partial credit.” She gnawed at her lower lip a little anxiously. The tips of Lexa’s ears pinked at the sight. “I just hope I did well enough on it to pass the class.” She lifted her arm to look at Lexa. “How about you?”

Lexa grimaced, an expression that never failed to make Clarke smile. “I think it went fine. As well as Shakespeare _can_ go.”

Clarke frowned. “I thought you liked Shakespeare.”

“I did. I _do_.” She threw her hands up in frustration. “It’s just the professor this semester. We didn’t really read any of the major works—really, Clarke, _Troilus and Cressida_?” she shot Clarke a withering glare. “And he spent half a class on a tangent about Marcia Clark’s ‘muscular thighs.’” She sighed. “It wasn’t as good as last semester.”

“Well, you never have to take him again.” Lexa hummed in the affirmative. “I’m definitely never taking physics for majors again!” she groaned. “In fact,” she sat up abruptly, a devilish gleam in her eyes, “Come on!” She jumped up and pulled Lexa to her feet with one hand, shoved her Riverside Shakespeare into her hands, and tugged her toward the door.

Lexa stumbled after her. “Clarke, what the hell?! Where are we going?” 

“ _Attic_ ,” Clarke shouted jubilantly, steaming full-speed for the stairwell, dragging her backpack and Lexa in her wake. She pounded up the stairs and made a beeline for one of the dormer windows. She dumped her bag on the floor and crawled into the window to unlock it and wrestle the sash up.

“ _Clarke!_ What are you _doing?_ There’s no screens!”

“I know!” Clarke drew back and rummaged through the detritus of notebooks, pens, and highlighters in her backpack, emerging triumphantly at last with her Physics textbook. “We’re exorcising the demons! C’mon!” She turned back towards the open window, counted to three, and hurled it out. She hopped down from the window and danced a little jig of glee. “Your turn.”

“What? Clarke, no—what if we get caught?”

Clarke shrugged. “Exams are over next week, what’s the worst they can do? Come on, it feels great!”

Lexa climbed into the window and hefted the book gingerly. _It’s the Riverside Shakespeare, Lexa, what’re you doing, it’s a classic! But Professor Winslow is a misogynistic ass!_ Lexa clenched her jaw and defiantly chucked the book out the window. Her thrill of satisfaction at watching it hurtle to the ground was short-lived; just as the book crashed to the ground, a figure walking along the nearby walkway picked up the book and peered up at the attic windows. Lexa sucked in a breath of horror and jerked back into the window well. _Anya!_

“Lexa? What is it? You look like you saw a ghost. You didn’t hit someone, did you?” Clarke hopped into the window beside her to peer out. Anya stood below them with her hands on her hips, glaring daggers in her direction. “ _Oh…shit…._ ”

*********

The two of them straggled downstairs and down the hall towards Anya’s room, whispering animatedly between themselves.

“I need that book back, Clarke! I need to sell it back for cash!” Lexa complained.

“I know, ok! I’ll tell her it was my fault! It’ll be fine,” Clarke hissed.

“Hey guys,” Raven said, walking out of her room.

They jumped. “Oh! Hey, Rae,” Clarke said in an affectedly casual tone.

Raven eyed her shrewdly. “What did you guys do?”

“Nothing!” Lexa yelped.

Clarke gave her a side-eyed glance and shook her head. “Way to sell it, Lex.” To Raven, “We…uh…might have thrown a couple of books out of the attic window.”

Raven shrugged. “So? What’s the big deal about that?”

“Uhh…they might have almost hit Anya.”

“Yeah, and now we have to go get them back from her. Thanks a lot, _Clarke_ ,” Lexa sniped. Clarke rolled her eyes. 

Raven waved her hand dismissively. “Pssht. That’s nothing compared to the guys down the hall pouring soda on the fire alarm and setting it off at 2am. You’ll be fine. But actually, can I come with you? I have a proposition for Anya.”

Clarke eyed her. “You want to proposition _Anya?_ ”

" _No!_ No.” Raven cleared her throat. “ _A_ proposition. You guys are done with exams until next week, right?” They nodded yes. “Sooo…this is our last weekend before we all go home for summer break. We should celebrate!”

 _Oh, right._ Clarke and Lexa glanced at each other and looked away. Clarke felt a sense of melancholy sweep over her. In her head, she knew the end of the term was coming, but it hadn’t seemed so…imminent…until now.

Raven joined them and the three of them marched to Anya’s door. Clarke knocked tentatively and Anya swung the door open, a sardonic grin on her face. “Really, Griffin? Attempted murder this late in the term? I might have expected it from this one,” a nod at Lexa “she’s got some hidden depths, but you’re not quite so…sublimated.”

“Sorry, Anya,” Clarke mumbled sheepishly. “We were just blowing off some steam. Can we have our books back?”

Anya gave a short bark of laughter. “Blowing off steam?” She briefly caught Lexa’s eye before Lexa’s cheeks reddened and she turned away. “Uh huh. Yeah, I’ve got them.” She moved over to her desk to pick up the contraband in question. “But you might have to pay a toll.”

“Speaking of paying,” Raven pushed past Clarke and Lexa into Anya’s room and pulled the door shut behind her. “I’ve got a proposition for you.”

Anya’s jaw dropped slightly at Raven’s forwardness, but she caught herself and played along. “I’m listening, Reyes.”

Raven swallowed and forged ahead. “So, it’s our last weekend before summer break, and I was wondering if you’d go to the liquor store for us.”

Anya laughed out loud. “God, you’ve got some nerve. I’m your _RA_ , Reyes—why would I ever do that?”

Raven held her eye steadily. “Yeah, but you’re not the RA _on duty_ this weekend, so I’m guessing you’ll have better things to do than hang around a freshman dorm. And seriously, if you won’t do it, we’ll just go to the guys down the hall and they’ll charge us double for shit booze. Help us fight the patriarchy.” She capped off her pitch with a shit-eating grin.

Anya rolled her eyes and considered for a moment. “Ok,” she said finally. “But you tell no one, Reyes!” Raven nodded vigorously and forked over $20. Anya plucked it from her fingers. “What do you want?”

“Uhh…” Raven glanced at Lexa and Clarke and the three of them looked back at Anya and said together, “Rum!”

*********

Raven poured a healthy cup or so from the half-gallon jug of Joaquim’s rum into the makeshift pitcher filled with frozen pina colada mix. As usual, the group had congregated in Raven and Octavia’s room for the evening. The multi-colored Christmas lights festooned around the ceiling lent a festive ambiance. Octavia lounged on her bed with Lincoln, while Ontari, Jasper, Monty, Clarke, and Lexa sat on the floor playing a card game they had all forgotten the rules to by now. “Gin!” shouted Jasper. 

Ontari snickered. “We’re not even playing rummy.”

“Right. Blackjack!”

Raven snorted with laughter, just as she stuck the immersion blender in the pitcher. Chunks of ‘pina colada’ splattered into the sink. Without thinking, Raven bent down and licked the excess off the sink.

“Oh My God, Raven!” shrieked Octavia. “That’s the grossest thing I’ve ever seen you do!!” She convulsed with laughter into Lincoln’s solid chest—not a bad place to be, in her opinion.

Raven flushed. “Shut up! You didn’t have to beg Anya to buy for us. I don’t wanna waste it. Anyway, pina coladas are ready! Come on, this is a party, bitches!” She cranked up Offspring on the Aiwa stereo. 

Lexa piped up, “Hey Raven, maybe we should turn it down some, it’s kind of loud.”

Raven brushed her off. “Everybody in the dorm is wasted tonight, nobody cares. The whole second floor is high as shit. Besides, Anya bought this shit for us, we’re golden. Oh my god, you guys,” she took a gulp of her drink, “you know what we should do? We should streak the quad!” 

Shouts of yea and nay shook the room. “C’mon! We’ve gotta do the triathalon before we graduate.” College tradition called for students to swim the on-campus pond, streak the quad, and jump the wall and run the boxwood maze of a nearby historic property before they graduated. “Let’s just practice!” She grabbed at Octavia’s foot. “Let’s go!”

Octavia groaned, but rolled over and sat up, pulling Lincoln with her. Monty and Jasper chugged their drinks and headed for the door. Ontari shifted from one foot to the other before demurring. Clarke quirked an eyebrow at Lexa. Lexa, a few drinks in by this point, shrugged her shoulders and rose to her feet. Clarke tossed back the rest of her drink and followed. 

The group straggled toward the quad, roughly a block and a half away. When they reached its end, Monty and Jasper collapsed on the grass. Jasper produced a joint. “Uh, I’m just gonna hang here.” Monty quickly agreed, and the pair tuned everyone else out. 

Octavia leaned against Lincoln, whispering in his ear, before announcing to the group, “Hey, we’re gonna take off. I’ll, uh, see you guys later,” she muttered, avoiding Raven’s eyes. “Whatever,” Raven scoffed at the departing duo. She looked at Clarke and Lexa. “Let’s do this!” She whipped off her shirt and slid her shorts down her legs.

Clarke shrugged nervously and pulled her own shirt over her head. Her hands moved to the button of her cut-offs. Lexa groaned internally and began to shuck her own clothes. Keeping her eyes forward was an exquisite torture. _Don’t look don’t look god don’t look you should totally look oh my god you looked._ Clarke’s blonde hair streamed down her bare back and her thighs arched as she lifted each leg one at a time to shimmy out of her underwear. Lexa shuddered and felt her own nipples harden despite the relatively warm air. She tugged her own clothes off and took off running in desperation. _Run, dummy, don’t look!_ She quickly outpaced Raven and reached the end of the quad.

Clarke took off last and sprinted to try to catch up with her companions. The quad was longer than a football field, and she was sucking wind by the time she neared the end. _Fuck, why didn’t we bring our clothes WITH US? Now we have to run back!_ Lexa and Raven had already made the turn for home by the time Clarke caught up, and she processed the same realization on their faces. When she reached the end, a small flock of spectators—other students who had anticipated streakers—let out howls of appreciation, and Clarke lifted her chin and dug in for the return journey. Her conditioning couldn’t compete with Lexa’s or Raven’s; she was gasping for air halfway back, but the fact that _she was naked!_ kept her pumping her legs. Bringing up the rear presented her with a unique vantage point. She was too far away to see details, but her brain took in Raven’s smooth olive skin _and Lexa’s hair flowing uninhibited past her shoulders down the smooth expanse of her back, the muscles of her lower back bunching and her buttocks flexing tightly with each stride…What the actual fuck, Griffin?_ She shook herself out of…whatever _that_ was…and directed the energy she had left on making it to the end of the quad. By the time Clarke arrived, the others were mostly clothed, and she focused on throwing her clothes on without looking anywhere…else. 

Jasper and Monty hooted their approval—they were too baked by this point to register nudity—and the fivesome wandered back to the dorm, all of them flushed for different reasons. They stumbled back up the stairs and into Raven’s room and collapsed into their original spots. Ontari was still there, zoning out to the TV and stroking her long hair in search of split ends. 

“Holy shit, this is the best birthday ever,” Monty said happily.

“What?! You never said it was your birthday!” Raven shouted. “That’s awesome! We need to do shots!” She began to scavenge for glasses.

Clarke sat on the floor next to Lexa, leaning into her shoulder. She groaned. “This is not going to end well.”

Lexa grinned and said, “Probably not. But it’s our last weekend.” She dipped her head away to hide the moisture in her eyes. 

Clarke threaded her fingers through Lexa’s and squeezed. “I’m going to miss you. I mean, I know we’re living together with Ontari and Becky next year, but I’m still going to miss you. Hey,” she took a finger and turned Lexa’s face toward her. _Damn, her eyes are green._ “I’m going to write you, and you have to write me back.”

Lexa nodded swiftly. “I will. Miss you. But, yes, I’ll write, too.” She rested the side of her head against Clarke’s. 

They both accepted shots from Raven. “Ok, let’s sing happy birthday to Monty!” All six of them belted the song out as loudly as they could. Just as they hit the climax, the door reverberated with a pounding knock.

Raven popped up and threw the door open. “Heyyy—oh shit.”

The RAs on duty—no one was really sure of their names, but a guy from the second floor and woman from the first floor—stood at the door and took in the scene: six freshmen in various states of inebriation grinning brightly at them, a half-empty half-gallon plastic jug of shitty rum prominently displayed on the floor. “So,” the male RA said. “Whose birthday is it?” They all looked over at Monty, who was doing his best to sink into the carpet. “So you’re 21, right?” Monty had become nonverbal. “Ok, so which of you is 21?” He surveyed the rest of the room. No one met his eye. “Uh huh.” 

The female RA stepped forward. “So where’d you get the…Joaquim’s rum?” she asked, struggling to contain her snicker. 

No answer. 

“Ok, well maybe we should just confiscate—”

Raven piped up, “How about we just… _put it away?_ ” She casually slid the bottle into a closet.

Both RAs nodded. The woman continued, “That sounds like a plan. Just keep it down.” She muttered to her partner, “The whole damn dorm is out of control tonight. I guess that report about the third floor running around naked wasn’t true.” 

“Yeah, but I smelled weed on the way up here, so I _know_ the second floor is baked,” he whispered. To the room, “Ok, but if we have to come back up here, you’re all getting reported,” he warned.

“No problem,” Raven assured and the rest of the room nodded energetically. “But—” she held up a camera “—before you go, would you mind?”

The RAs looked at each other, rolled their eyes, and snapped the photo.

*****May 2018*****

“Clarke? ”

Clarke startled. “Yeah! Yeah, mom, what is it?”

Abby perched on a stack of boxes and smiled down at her. “Honey, you’ve been staring at that photo for at least ten minutes. It must mean _some_ thing.”

“ _No!_ Uh, no mom, just…people I haven’t seen in a long time, and I was trying to remember names. It was an end of the year photo, right at the end of freshman year.”

“Mmm,” Abby mused. “I remember that,” she remarked. “Not the photo,” gesturing toward the picture, “but I remember that summer. That was probably the last summer you really came home. Oh,” she threw up a hand, “I think you came home the next summer, too, but you were at work all the time, so it was like you weren’t really here.” She cast a glance at Clarke. “I always did wonder what that was about, but you didn’t want to talk and I didn’t know how to push you. I always had my suspicions, though.” Clarke looked away, her jaw working. “But that summer. You were home, but you just seemed really sad a lot of the time. I didn’t know what to do to help you.” 

Clarke choked. _To help me? When you were working sixty hours a weeks and I never saw you?_ “Sad?”

"Well, it was pretty clear that you didn’t really want to be here,” her mother replied matter-of-factly. 

Clarke raised a shoulder. She couldn’t really argue with that. “But ‘suspicions,’ that sounds ominous. What do you mean by that?” 

“Well, honey, Lexa…” her mother trailed off at the repressive look on Clarke’s face. “You know what, it was really just a…feeling…Anyway,” she clapped her hands. “Do you want to stay for dinner? I’m about to get it started.”

“Oh! Yeah, that would be great,” Clarke replied distractedly. 

Her mother headed back upstairs. Clarke picked up the stack of letters. There were two or three dozen of them, some from Octavia, a rare few from Raven—writing had not been her forte—a few from Fox and Becky, even a few from Ontari. But the majority were from Lexa. 

She opened the top one, postmarked June 1995. 

_“‘Clarke, you write the best damn letters in the world. I just got the last one (including the top ten list of why Virginia is the best damn state in the nation) and I was in stitches! I’m sorry that you are having a crappy summer. At least there’s no physics in waiting tables or hosing duck crap. I’m taking psychology at the local community college. The professor is a DORK. Actually he isn’t really a professor, I think I’m supposed to call him my ‘instructor.’ Today he talked about his Siamese cats for 20 minutes (in fact, I wrote most of this letter while he was doing so.)’”_

Clarke laughed out loud. _Oh, god, that was the Bob Evans and boat dock summer._ She shook her head in disbelief. _Waiting the night shift at Bob Evans was bad enough, but moonlighting weekends at the county paddleboat dock was a special kind of hell._

She read on about Lexa’s account of the Applebee’s bartender who harassed her, the “seventeen foot tall waiter” named Ben who backed her up and subsequently got fired, and her excursion to New Orleans with high school friends when the drinking age was still 18. She closed her eyes and remembered Lexa recounting the tale when they got back to school. 

_“I stood there at the bar and all I could think was John Wayne swaggering up to the bar like a badass and tossing it back, so when the bartender brought the shot, I threw it back and immediately slammed my head down on the bar. The friends I was with thought I was gonna be sick until I told them, no, it’s not the liquor I swallowed, it’s the liquor in my EYE. Don’t ever get Jägermeister in your eye, it burns like hell.”_

The next letter detailed Lexa’s attempt at dating a fellow waitress. _“‘The upside is that we both smell like a restaurant so we don’t notice any grease smell hovering about the other. The bad part is that we’re both so beat by the end of our shifts that we spend our evenings together falling asleep in front of the TV.’”_ Clarke remembered feeling secretly relieved—even to the present day—that the relationship had not progressed further. 

She slid the final letter from that summer out of its envelope. late July 1995. _“‘So whatever happened with Sophie B. Hawkins girl?’”_

Clarke thumped her head back against the basement wall. _Oh Jesus._

*****July 1995*****

“Hey, Clarke, Lexa’s on the phone!”

Clarke bounded to the extension in her room and picked up the receiver. “I got it, Mom! Hey, Lex! What’s up!”

“Hi, Clarke! It’s so good to talk to you. I didn’t know if I’d catch you, I’m not sure when you’re at work.”

“Actually, I just got in. I worked the dock this afternoon, but I don’t work Bob Evans tonight. I’m so freaking glad. How’ve you been? How’s…Jess?”

“Oh, I’m good. I’m so ready to come back to school. I got stuck watching my family’s dog last weekend—not _my_ dog, because I never agreed to a dog, but apparently Aden—” her younger brother “—begged for a dog, so my dad got one, and then I had to watch him when the two of them went to Atlanta for the weekend. But at least I got to go to my friend Susan’s party without any hassles. Oh, Jess…yeah, we broke up. Well, I don’t know that we were really even _dating_ , but…we’re over. So, I haven’t gotten a letter from you in a couple weeks, what’ve you been up to?”

Clarke flopped back on her bed and groaned. “Mostly just work. We had a _Rescue 911_ incident at the dock today. Note to self, don’t ever put four large-ish adults in the same boat again.”

“What happened?”

“Let’s just say that some of the boat drains get clogged, and we can’t come rescue you from a sinking boat until another boat returns to the dock. I fricking hate paddleboats.”

Lexa cracked up at the imagery. “So why are you working at a boat dock?”

Clarke sighed. “I don’t know. It was my mom’s idea. Community activism, she said. Yeah, duck shit and $4.25 an hour, I said. But here I am. Oh! I was going to write you about this, but since you’re on the phone I’ll just tell you. It was so weird and I don’t know what to think.”

“Ok.”

“I was closing at Bob Evans the other night—and I was so fricking just…done. I work 5 or 6 nights a week there and a whole table of goddamn senior citizens runs my ass off for an hour and leaves like a quarter tip. So I was just burned out, but also kind of hyper…I just didn’t want to go home, you know? And none of my friends are home for the summer, and I just…shit. It’s hard to take. Anyway, I thought some of my co-workers were going to Denny’s after work to hang out—”

“Wait, you work at Bob Evans, but hang out at Denny’s?”

“I know it doesn’t make any sense. But there is literally nowhere else to go here after midnight. Maybe the bowling alley, but that’s skeezy.”

“No Waffle House?”

“Nope.” Clarke popped the P.

“Damn. So, you went to Denny’s…”

“Yeah. But when I got there, it was just my manager, everyone else had—apparently—gone to the bowling alley. But, you know, skeezy. And she’s old, she’s like, almost thirty. But I ended up hanging out and drinking coffee with her for, like, two hours. And then she was like, ‘hey, I should get out of here, but do you want to come back to my apartment for a drink?’ And I really didn’t want to go home, so I said ok.” 

Lexa hummed in encouragement.

“And then it got kind of weird. I mean, we came in and sat on her couch, but she didn’t turn any lights on, just the fluorescent light in the kitchen. And we didn’t actually drink anything. And she was just sitting _right next_ to me on the couch,” Lexa started snickering, “and then she put ‘Damn, I Wish I was your Lover’ on the stereo. Which is fine, I like the song, but—what’s so funny?”

She had to wait a few moments for Lexa’s hysterical laughter to subside. “Jesus, Clarke,” Lexa managed when she’d regained her composure. “She was trying to pick you _up_. How did you _not know_ that?” She giggled some more. 

“Oh. _OH._ ” Clarke thought for a moment. “I guess I just thought she was friendly. Wow…damn.”

“…I wish I was your lover!” Lexa roared with laughter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FWIW, Lexa still regrets tossing (and selling back) the Riverside Shakespeare.
> 
> And Clarke really _was_ that oblivious.


	6. Basket Case

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> * title refers to Green Day

*****May 2018*****

Lexa hurried into the brewpub and scanned the tables anxiously. There had been a delay on the blue line and she was fifteen minutes late. She hated being late. She spotted her companion at a table on the patio and waved at him as she approached the table. The tall, sandy-haired man in his early thirties hopped to his feet and enveloped her in a bear hug. He towered over her by a good six inches. “Lex!”

“Aden! Mmm, it’s good to see you!” They settled into their seats. “Sorry I’m late.”

“I know, I was about to call out the National Guard to look for you. Fifteen minutes, Lex. _Fifteen_.”

Lexa rolled her eyes and tried unsuccessfully to suppress the grin tugging at the corners of her lips. “Mockery is not the product of a strong mind, Aden,” she scolded with feigned severity.

A wide smile split his face. “I know, I just like hassling you. What’re little brothers for?” They chitchatted until the waitress took their orders and returned with their drinks. They clinked glasses. 

Lexa took a pull of her beer. “So how long are you in town?”

“Not long, the conference is only for a few days. And I don’t want to leave Stacey for too long.” He fidgeted a little nervously in his seat. “So, Lex, I have some news…Stacey’s pregnant,” he exhaled, his brown eyes glowing with pride. 

Lexa’s jaw dropped and she swatted lightly at his arm. “Aden! That’s great! I’m so happy for you. When is it—“ she frowned _boy or girl?_ “—due? Are you going to find out if it’s a boy or girl?”

“October,” he said, beaming. “We haven’t decided if we want to know or not—I don’t mind being surprised, but Stacey thinks she might rather know. We’ve known for a little while, but we’ve been waiting to tell people until we got through the first trimester…and I wanted to tell you in person, anyway.”

“That’s fantastic. You’re going to be a great dad. Give Stacey my best, and keep me posted if you guys need any help.” She made a mental note to scour etsy later for ironic onesies. _Oh, I bet the gift shop at work has National Geographic baby shirts…and stuffed baby penguins! I wonder how soon is too soon for that Dinosaur fossil kit? Of course, I could hold on to it until the kid’s old enough. You know, for science—_

“Lexa?” 

She snapped out of her reverie. “Sorry! Got distracted. So how’s everything else in Atlanta? Speaking of dads—how’s dad doing?”

Aden relaxed and stretched out his legs and took a swallow of his beer. “Well, Atlanta _is_ built on a hellmouth, you know. They fixed the bridge collapse, but District 5 is still on fire. So much carnage. You know how we do.” Lexa snickered and shook her head, mouthing _“how we do?”_ “Work is fine. We just hired a bunch of young guys who screw around a little too much,”—in the software development world, turning thirty made one practically a wizened sage—“but it’s been over a week since the last hoverboard mishap. Dad’s still doing well. He’s keeping up with the physio. You know he’ll never be strong on the left side, but he gets around well. Still insists on working.” He looked at her meaningfully. “He asks when you’re coming to visit all the time.”

She sighed and rubbed her forehead. “I know. I talk to him on the phone once or twice a week. And I want to come down, I _do_.” She slumped back in frustration.

“Lexa—what’s going on? You seem, I dunno, kind of stressed.”

“Nothing’s _going on_ , what makes you think that?” _Why does everyone thing something’s ‘going on?’_ He arched an eyebrow and looked pointedly at the beer mat she’d unconsciously torn into tiny shreds while they’d been talking. She laughed shortly and took a gulp of her drink. “Yeah, ok. I’ve just had a lot of expenses hit all at once. I mean, I’d budgeted for helping out with dad and getting my deck restained, and I’ll have my student loans paid off in another year or so. But I’ve got a big travel gig for work in about a month, and I usually have to pay upfront and get reimbursed later and that always takes a while. I could handle all of that, but the transmission in my damn Subaru went out last week and it’s going to cost an arm and a leg to fix, so now I have to decide whether to fix it or to shell out to replace the car. Adulting sucks,” she grumbled.

Aden laughed at her pout.

“The kicker is this college reunion next weekend, which just feels like an unnecessary expense. I’m thinking about just bailing on it.” She let her head fall back against the back of the seat headrest. “I just thought I’d be in a better place by now—I didn’t think I’d _still_ be so stressed about money in my early 40s.”

“Lexa, you know you can always come to me if you need help.” She started to interrupt with _I can’t do that_ and _kid on the way,_ but he continued talking over her protests. “I can carry dad for a while, God knows you did more to carry the both of us than I can ever repay. I still don’t know how you managed it.” He shook his head in recollection. “But are you sure it’s really money that’s got you stressed?”

Lexa spread her hands. “What else would it be?”

He eyed her shrewdly. “You tell me.” She huffed, but her cheeks turned a little pink and she refused to look him in the face. “Ok. But look, I know you, and I’ve seen you get through far more difficult times. What was it you told me one time? You’ve had to make yourself choose between poptarts and Doritos because you didn’t have money for them both, and if you can do that, you can manage anything?”

She did smile at that and looked at him with a slight shimmer in her eyes. “Yeah,” she said softly. “But it was Clarke who told _me_ that.”

*****January 1996*****

“Hurry up, Clarke, we’re going to be late,” Lexa complained. She donned a flannel shirt over her turtleneck and buttoned it halfway but left the tails untucked. She looked over at Ontari, who sat poring over a Chemistry textbook, pointedly ignoring them. “Sure you don’t want to join us, Ontari?” Lexa offered.

Ontari sniffed. “No, I’ve got _studying_ to do.” She shot Clarke a dirty look and returned to her book. Lexa raised her eyebrows and turned away. _O-kay._

“Ok, I’m ready!” Clarke tugged on an Arkadia sweatshirt and finished tying her chucks. She grabbed her keys and they pelted downstairs. “Are Lincoln and Octavia meeting us there?”

Lexa shrugged. “They said so, but you’ve seen them lately. Or rather—not.” They headed across the quad toward the far side of Old Campus.

Clarke agreed, wrinkling her nose. “I know. I swear every time I knock on Octavia’s door I get a long muffled sigh and then, ‘Just a second’ And then it’s like ten minutes before she opens the door and they’re both in there, all sweaty—"

“—with sex hair,” Lexa finished succinctly. “Octavia, anyway. Not like Lincoln has much hair.” They giggled. “I don’t know how Raven puts up with it. Last time that happened, I just left before they ever opened the door.” 

“Who else is coming? Did you talk to Raven?”

“Well, Anya. She’s been antsy about law school acceptances, so she said she wanted to go out and unwind.”

“And she’ll buy for us?”

Lexa looked at her flatly, as if the question were so ridiculous that it didn’t merit a response. “Raven might swing by later, she wasn’t sure. She’s got a lab to finish up, so it probably depends on how much shit she blows up.” 

They reached the edge of campus and crossed the street. Arkadia was a pretty small town with very few drinking establishments—or at least few accessible to students without transportation—and the three main college bars—loftily referred to as “delis”—were located directly across the street from one of the campus residential complexes. Frat boys and sorority girls congregated at the College, and the Leafe was twenty-one and up after 9pm, which excluded everyone but Anya. They usually gravitated to Paul’s, a sports bar of sorts. They pulled out their IDs and waited for the bouncer at the door to check them and X their hands in black magic marker. They pushed through the doors into the crowded bar. It was barely 10pm and already standing room only. Lexa craned her neck until she found Anya ensconced with Lincoln, Octavia, and another girl at a table against the wall. Lexa gestured in their direction. Clarke nodded and pointed at her hand. Lexa signaled a thumbs-up. She moved toward the table and Clarke migrated to the restroom. She joined them at the table a few minutes later, her hands suspiciously scrubbed pink and marker-free.

“Your turn.” Lexa headed for the restroom herself and Clarke turned her attention to the table. Lincoln and Octavia sat absorbed in each other, paying little attention to the others. Anya introduced the girl next to her, a brunette with piercing eyes, as Echo. Clarke grabbed a seat by the wall next to Lincoln and moments later Lexa squeezed in across from her, next to Echo. Clarke couldn’t help but notice how Echo’s eyes roamed over Lexa’s body as she sat down and then lingered on her lips. Clarke unconsciously narrowed her eyes and cleared her throat. “So, I’ve got the next round,” she produced six dollars, “Anya, would you do the honors?”

Anya muttered something that sounded like, _“Fucking children,”_ but she took the cash and came back a few minutes later with a pitcher of Killian’s and a handful of cups. “Drink up, Johnny!”

Octavia dislodged herself from Lincoln long enough to accept a cup. “Where’s Becky and Ontari?” 

“Becky’s away for a meet this weekend and Ontari didn’t want to come.” Clarke made a face.

“Yeah, Clarke, what _was_ that?” Lexa asked with confusion. She took a sip of her beer. Echo’s eyes followed her long fingers as she brushed a bit of foam from her upper lip. She pressed her side a little closer into Lexa. Lexa smiled at her politely before turning her attention back to Clarke.

“I don’t _know_ ,” Clarke groaned. “She hates me, and I don’t even know what I _did_.” She slapped her cup on the table for emphasis and a little beer sloshed over the side. “She’s just always in the room. And she just _sits_ there, playing with her hair all the damn time. _No one_ has that many fucking split ends! And she always acts like she’s so much _smarter_ than me. I’m a Bio major, too, dammit!” 

Lexa cracked up. “Yeah, but you antagonize her.”

Clarke scoffed. “How do _I_ antagonize _her?_ ”

“Oh come on,” Lexa leaned forward and placed both elbows on the table. “You heard her complaining about clothes on the floor, you didn’t have to take _all_ your pants and pile them in the middle of the floor with a sign that said ‘PANTS.’”

Clarke leaned in and mimicked her posture. “She was just bitching about _my_ clothes on the floor, she leaves _hers_ on the floor all the time.” She grinned mischievously. “Besides, you helped. Those were your pants, too.” 

Lexa snickered. “Ok, it was funny, but it probably didn’t help that she walked in just as you were rolling around in the pile of our pants. God, the look on her face…” The two of them began laughing uncontrollably.

Echo’s smile faded as she watched the exchange between Lexa and Clarke. She took a gulp of her beer and shot Anya a dirty glare over the rim of her cup. Anya just shrugged in reply, as if to say, _“What’re you gonna do?”_

Two hours later, Monty and Raven had shown up and the whole group was noticeably drunker. The bar itself had become more raucous. When the live band in the front—the same band that played almost every weekend—broke out a familiar Drivin’ N’ Cryin’ song, the entire bar erupted in a rousing chorus of “I’m goin’ straight to hell!” Raven had squashed in between Anya and Echo. Her head bent closer to Echo’s as their private conversation deepened, and Echo’s hand strayed to Raven’s thigh. Lincoln and Octavia were also primarily immersed in each other. Monty, Lexa, and Clarke chatted animatedly amongst themselves, and Anya drank her beer and looked on impassively, interjecting sarcastic remarks from time to time. 

As the evening drew closer to an end, the band struck up another crowd favorite and most of the (drunk) patrons lifted their cups and roared along with the refrain. Octavia and Lincoln looked at each other wordlessly. They drained their cups, waved brief goodbyes, and made for the door. Echo and Raven also stood, faces a little red and hands entwined, and made their exit. 

Clarke’s hair was slightly disheveled and her face was flushed from the beer, but she couldn’t quite explain the tingling in her belly as she caught Lexa’s eye on the final chorus, overly-bright blue and green eyes locked on each other. 

_So, barmaid bring a pitcher, another round of brew!_

_Honey, why don’t we get drunk and screw!_

When the song ended, all the lights came on to signal closing time. As the remaining four stood to leave, Anya swatted Lexa on the back of the head. “Dumbass!”

“Ow! What the hell, Anya?!”

Anya just shook her head.

*****February 1996*****

Clarke’s eyes burned. She scowled at her textbook and the array of notes and flashcards strewn across the table in the hall study lounge. She rarely studied in her room any longer because Becky and Ontari usually went to bed fairly early and Ontari’s passive-aggressive sighs when she kept her desk lamp on drove her batshit. _Fucking Ontari._ She and Lexa had a big Art History exam tomorrow that they were nowhere near ready for. It was going to be a long night. She yawned. 

The lounge door suddenly slammed open with a boom. Lexa leaped through the door and landed softly, catlike, on the balls of her feet. She wore an Arkadia U ballcap backwards on her head and a flannel—what else?—looped loosely around her hips. Her hair curled madly beneath the cap and her glasses slipped askew down her nose. _“It is I!!”_ She proclaimed loudly as she flung her backpack onto the lounge sofa with a clatter. 

Clarke gaped at her. _God, she’s adorable. Wait, what?_ She shook her head in puzzlement. “Lex? Where’ve you been? I thought we were going to study.”

“I had to finish that paper for my German History class. _God_ , that book we had to read was tedious and the professor is _so boring_ , Clarke. _SO boring_. I am not _interested_ in Bismarck!” Clarke stared as she babbled and paced around the small room like a caged animal. “I went to the coffee shop in the square to work because Ontari was in the room and the sound of her _thinking_ was _so loud_ and holy _shit_ , you’re right, she plays with her hair _all the time!_ The coffee shop was so much better and quiet and I got my paper done and their coffee is so good. _So good_ , Clarke! Are you ready to study, Clarke? Let’s study, Clarke!” She dropped into the chair across from Clarke, eyes manic and her body thrumming with excess energy.

“Lexa,” Clarke asked cautiously, “how much coffee did you drink?”

“Oh! Well, they give free refills if you bring your own mug.” She gestured at the plastic 20oz. Arkadia U mug hanging from a carabiner on her backpack. “So, I don’t know, 2 or 3?” She jumped to her feet again and started to prowl. 

_Holy shit. She’s high on caffeine. It’s going to be a **really** long night. _

An hour later, Lexa still couldn’t sit still to concentrate on her notes. She lay on her back on the sofa, knees bent upward and swaying side to side, while Clarke read aloud from the textbook. She repeated words and phrases after Clarke at random. 

“'John Constable’s _The Hay Wain_ depicts a cottage and a copse of trees in the rural English countryside—'”

“ _Copse copse copse_ ,” chanted Lexa. “Clarke, I can _feel_ myself twitching,” she whispered loudly.

Clarke groaned. _We’re both going to fail this exam._ “Hey, Lex, why don’t we take a walk? It might help you to move around and I could use a break. Want to go to Morton?” Morton was an academic building across campus; the two frequently studied there at night in empty classrooms. Lexa nodded vigorously, and the pair packed up their gear and went downstairs. The brisk February air rejuvenated Clarke and conversely, seemed to settle Lexa down. 

They lucked out—their favorite basement study room—more of a lounge, really, with a massive conference table—was unlocked and unoccupied. They unpacked their notes and books and spread out. They spent the next hour taking turns quizzing each other with flashcards and giggling intermittently about Professor Wainwright’s minor speech impediment, which occasionally manifested itself at unfortunate moments. He had waxed particularly eloquent in his analysis of a Bernini altarpiece.

“ _It’s a very sexualized image_ ,” Clarke sputtered as she read from her notes, barely holding a straight face, “ _depicting the angel **thrusting** the fire-tipped dart of God’s love—_ ”

Lexa chimed in, grinning widely, “ _—into St. Theresa **over** and **over** and **over** again!_ ” They collapsed in peals of laughter. 

Lexa climbed onto the conference table and stretched out full length. “I’m sorry for being such a spazz earlier,” she said apologetically.

“Don’t worry about it. But is everything ok? You’ve seemed kind of…on edge…for a little while now. More than just exam stress.”

Lexa blew out a heavy breath. “Nothing’s _wrong_ , exactly. It’s just…money again.” Clarke nodded in understanding. She didn’t really know the full extent, but she knew Lexa’s family wasn't able to contribute much financial support. Lexa cobbled together scholarships, loans, and a part-time job to cover her own tuition and support herself. “I really want to go on that study abroad program in the fall, but the payment deadline is coming up in about a month and I don’t know if I can come up the money to cover it. It’s just discouraging to work so hard and still come up short.” She closed her eyes, feeling defeated.

Clarke’s heart surged with affection. She crawled onto the table and laid down next to Lexa. “Hey,” she said softly. Lexa turned on her side to face her. “It’s going to work out. You can _do_ this,” she assured.

“How can you say that, Clarke? You can’t know that.” Lexa argued, a little bitterly.

“No, Lex, but I know _you_.” Clarke insisted, looking intently into Lexa’s eyes. _How can eyes be that green? I can’t even paint that shade._ She swallowed. “I’ve seen you struggle and fight and budget and skip out on social outings—yeah, I knew why you stayed home, why do you think I stayed back with you sometimes?” She took Lexa’s hand and threaded her fingers between Lexa’s. “Look, I know how determined and how driven you are. And _you will figure this out_. I’ve seen you eat tuna fish with Corn Flakes and peas to avoid spending money in the dining hall—”

“That was _one_ time,” Lexa mumbled _sotto voce._

“I’ve seen you in Food Lion agonizing over whether to buy the frosted pop tarts or the bag of Doritos because you only had money for one of them. I _know_ you,” she said, shaking their entwined hands for emphasis, “and if there’s something you want to do, you will figure it out. I’ve seen you do it.”

Lexa’s throat tightened a little and she felt tears threaten. “Thanks, Clarke,” she said hoarsely. Neither of them pulled away, and the silence stretched, growing heavier with each passing moment. For an instant, Lexa thought Clarke’s eyes dipped to her mouth, but she couldn’t be sure. She wanted nothing more than to weave her fingers through Clarke’s hair and draw her in, to sink into the depths of her soft lips. She closed her eyes and drew a shuddering breath, gathering herself. “Clarke,” she said, eyes still closed, “Tell me about _The Ecstasy of St. Theresa_ again.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You _can_ actually feel yourself twitch. 
> 
> _Fucking Ontari._


	7. Standing Outside a Broken Phone Booth With Money in my Hand

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> * title refers to Primitive Radio Gods
> 
> This was actually a really hard chapter to write, for a number of reasons, and then it ended up taking a direction I didn't quite anticipate. I'm still not sure I've gotten the internal dialogue I was after.
> 
> Trust me, Clexa is endgame. But Clarke's figuring shit out. Please don't hate.

*****June 2018*****

Most days Clarke loved her job. Helping clients regain basic skills so they could return to work, resume independent living, or, in the case of her peds patients, achieve developmental goals generally provided her with a sense of solid satisfaction. She enjoyed the challenge of putting together creative treatment plans—each client had unique challenges to overcome—and the chance to put her talent for art and crafting to use allowed her to scratch an itch that regular medical training had not. She especially liked working with her peds kids because their treatment often entailed play and games and she could draft off of their energy. Most days were good.

Today was not one of those days. 

Clarke walked into the doctors’ changing room and sank onto the bench in front of her locker. She rested her head on the wall behind her and let her hands drop limply in her lap. She closed her eyes….

The clatter of a locker clicking open startled her awake. Zoe Monroe, an orthopedic colleague, stood a few spaces down taking her bag out of her locker. “Sorry, Clarke,” she said apologetically. “You looked so beat, I was trying not to wake you.”

“No, it’s ok,” Clarke replied with a weary yawn. She rubbed the sleep from her eyes. “I didn’t even mean to doze off, I’ve got clients scheduled most of the afternoon. I just came in to change my scrubs.” She indicated the stain on her pants leg. “Second pair today.” Monroe raised her eyebrows in query. “An incontinence issue this morning and stomach upset just now. My lucky day,” she explained. She toed off her shoes and opened her locker to pull out a clean pair of bottoms. 

Monroe wrinkled her nose in sympathy. “I hate those days. Bet you’re looking forward to your day off.”

Clarke shook her head as she changed out of the soiled scrubs. “No, I picked up another one of Amy’s shifts. Her mom’s been having some health issues and she needed some time off to help with that.”

Monroe looked at Clarke curiously. “Isn’t that two or three extra shifts in just the last few weeks? Seems like you’re here all the time lately.”

“Oh, you know,” Clarke laughed hollowly. “Just trying to keep busy. I’ll be off a few days next week for my college reunion, so I’ve been taking on some extra work for the last few weeks to make up for it.” She sat back down to put her shoes back on. “Most of the time it’s fine. But days like today….It’s not just the accidents and messes. I’ve got a stroke patient that we were really optimistic about, but when I came in this morning I found out he’d had a setback last night. His neuro doc doesn’t see much chance for improvement now. I was there when he informed the family. They’re obviously pretty torn up.” Her voice trailed off. 

Monroe reached over and squeezed her shoulder. “I’m sorry. It’s so hard when we can’t help,” she said quietly. “Maybe you should think about rescheduling some of your appointments and taking that day off after all. Hard to treat others when you’re running yourself into the ground.” 

Clarke squeezed her hand back in response and gave a quick nod. _Oh, Zoe, if you only knew._ “I’ll think about it,” she said unconvincingly. She checked her watch. “Meanwhile, I’ve gotta run if I’m going to have time to grab coffee before my next appointment. I’ll see you later.” She stood and balled up the dirty garments to toss in the hamper.

“Ok, take care of yourself, Clarke.”

*****May 1996*****

Clarke Griffin was not in love with her best friend. She _wasn’t_. The idea was absurd. She and Lexa were just friends. Besides, Lexa liked girls, and Clarke, well….

So why did it hurt so much to watch her walk away?

Clarke had been dreading this day for months, ever since Lexa had learned that she’d been accepted into a study abroad program for the fall semester. She was glad for her, really she was. But she couldn’t help the gnawing hollow ache at realizing that once the semester ended, she wouldn’t see Lexa for over six months. The past week had been a chaotic whirlwind of packing, studying, final exams, dismantling loft beds and shifting them to storage, more studying, more finals, but now they’d finally reached the end of the term and the day Clarke had been trying to postpone had arrived. 

She and Lexa waited in their stripped-down room waiting for the RA to finish their end-of-term checkout. The room seemed so much larger and emptier without their posters, colorful magazine ads, and random crap plastered all over its walls. The RA left after they’d all signed off on the checkout forms and the two of them were left alone in the room for the last time. 

“So,” Clarke began awkwardly, “I guess this is it.”

“Yeah,” said Lexa softly, ducking her head a little.

The silence stretched for a beat, and then the words rushed out, talking over each other.

“I’m really going to miss you.” “Don’t forget to write.” _I don’t want you to go._

Clarke drew Lexa into a tight hug and buried her face in her hair and neck. She managed to stave off the sob starting to build in her throat, but she couldn’t hold back the tears that slid down her cheeks. Lexa’s own breath hitched unevenly and she held onto Clarke a bit longer than necessary, but neither of them thought twice about it. After a few long moments, they broke apart and gathered themselves, both wiping tears from their faces. 

“Ok, well, I’ve gotta go, my dad’s waiting downstairs,” Clarke said. 

“I’ll walk down with you, I’m heading to the bus station.” Lexa shouldered her backpack and picked up her suitcase, and they descended the stairs together for the last time.

Clarke’s dad waited for her at the curb next to his truck. “Ready to go, Clarke?” Clarke could only nod. “Hi, Lexa. Is your ride here?”

“Hi, Mr. Griffin. No, I’m taking the bus home. I’m on my way to the station now,” Lexa replied.

Jake Griffin frowned slightly. “Isn’t that a long bus ride?”

“About twenty-five hours. But it’s not so bad, I can sleep on the bus, and I haven’t had a chance to read a book for fun in forever,” Lexa assured him.

“Hm. Well, can we at least give you a ride to the station?” Lexa assented, and he stowed her gear in the back of the truck. All three of them climbed into the cab of the truck, with Clarke squeezed into the middle of the bench seat between her father and Lexa. Clarke tried to ignore the way her bare thigh seemed to burn where it pressed against Lexa’s during the brief ride to the bus stop. 

They all got out. Jake retrieved Lexa’s suitcase and wished her a safe trip before hopping back in the truck. Unlike earlier in their dorm room, neither girl desired a prolonged farewell this time. _I can’t say goodbye to her again._ They embraced quickly and pulled away. 

“Bye, Lex.”

“See you in a few months, Clarke.” Clarke got back in the truck and Lexa picked up her luggage and headed for the terminal. Clarke leaned the side of her head against the truck window so her father wouldn’t see the tears that stained her cheeks. As the truck pulled out of the parking lot, Clarke watched Lexa’s form walk away and grow smaller through the truck’s passenger-side mirror: red-checked gingham shirt with the sleeves rolled to the elbows, long legs stretching beneath khaki shorts, long, glossy hair pulled back through her Arkadia ball cap. Clarke would carry this indelible image in her mind for the next six months. 

_Why does it hurt so much to watch her walk away?_

*****July 1996*****

“Ms. Griffin, is there somewhere you need to be?”

Clarke jumped and refocused her attention on the white-coated doctor standing impatiently before her. “No! I’m sorry—my mind wandered for a moment.” _Actually, yes, you’re keeping me after my shift and I’m going to be late for work. Again._

“Clarke, if you want to become a doctor, you have to be mentally engaged at all times or you might miss an important symptom,” Dr. Jackson chided. “We’re almost done, but I want you to review the patient’s history for me one more time before we decide on a course of action.”

Clarke squared her shoulders and began to recite the details from the patient’s chart. Her mother, a surgeon at the local hospital, had arranged for her to spend the summer volunteering twenty hours a week at the hospital and shadowing physicians so that she could gain valuable clinical experience for her medical school applications. She’d spent the last eight weeks following doctors in various specialties; the last two weeks it had been Dr. Jackson. He was a good mentor, but…longwinded. Like today. Although Clarke usually enjoyed her shifts, they were unpaid. She’d taken another job working close to full-time waiting tables at a bar and grill so she could earn money for the coming school year. Juggling the two jobs hadn’t been a problem until now—she worked day or afternoon shifts at the hospital and nights and weekends at the restaurant—but Dr. Jackson’s consistent inability to respect her scheduled hours was causing strain at both. 

When the doctor finally released her, she raced pell mell out of the hospital, leaped into her mom’s old car—a powder-blue behemoth of a Dodge Diplomat—and sped off for job number two. She rolled into work ten minutes late, changed into her uniform in the bathroom, and tried to slip inconspicuously into the pre-shift meeting already in progress. No such luck—her assistant manager, an officious twit named Rhonda—spotted her and made her stay an extra five minutes to ream her out for tardiness. The rest of the shift went downhill from there: a table full of screaming children that irritated patrons on all sides and left a colossal mess for her to clean (and very little tip to make up for it), the self-important diner who vented his wrath at the lengthy Friday night wait time in the packed restaurant on her, exceptionally slow pours from the bartenders that backed all her tables up, capped off with a mid-door collision with another server that sent a tray of dishes flying and left food smeared down the front of Clarke’s t-shirt and hip apron.

That was the last straw. Clarke grabbed a clean shirt from the storeroom and changed, then stalked into the breakroom and rummaged through her purse. “Cover for me, I’m going for a cigarette,” she growled at Misty, one of her co-workers. 

Misty looked up in confusion. “I thought you didn’t smoke?”

Clarke fished a packet of Marlboro Lights and a lighter out of her bag and headed for the outside door. “Just started,” she mumbled. She pushed open the back door into the hot, sticky Virginia summer evening. She collapsed onto one of the rickety old chairs that composed the restaurant staff’s “smoking lounge,” lit up, and took a long draw. A novice smoker, the nicotine slammed through her veins like a freight train: a sharp rush of dizziness, followed by a wave of relaxation and a boost in energy. She held her head in her hands for a moment, overcome with everything. Suddenly flooded with an uncontrollable flush of rage, she shot to her feet and kicked a nearby cardboard box as hard as she could. She flicked her half-spent cigarette stub to the pavement and picked up her chair and hurled it at the dumpster. She stood there shaking, hands clenching and unclenching with the need to hit something, until the anger subsided. Emotions spent, Clarke settled herself and turned toward the door. Just before she opened it, she wrinkled her nose in distaste. _What’s that smell?_ She sniffed her clean shirt, then her apron, and grimaced as she fished a dill pickle spear out of her apron pocket. _Fucking great._

By the time Clarke’s restaurant shift ended and she got home, it was after midnight—a twelve hour day. She tiptoed silently to her bedroom so as not to wake her sleeping parents and pulled her door shut behind her. She changed into her pajamas and stretched out on the bed, trying to unwind from the stress of the day. She wished, not for the first time, that she could talk to Lexa, but even with the time difference it was too late to call. She rolled over on her stomach and scrabbled for a notebook and pen.

"Dear Lexa,

How are you? How are things in FL? In answer to his question, tell Aden that if you broke your tailbone in a hovercraft accident, you would _not_ get a cast on your butt, so you would still be able to wipe your butt. He can breathe easy. Things here…well, they suck. I’ve been trying to put a positive spin on things in my letters (and I do like volunteering, really) but I’m exhausted. Between the two jobs and the MCAT prep class I’m taking—crap, I thought I could sleep in, but I’ve got that tomorrow morning—I haven’t had a day off in 47 days. Not even sure when my next one is. I worked twelve hours today and came home reeking of pickle juice (don’t ask). I never see my parents, which I guess is fine because then mom can’t nag me. Tonight I thought I was going to get cut early, but Rhonda kept me until close and then made me stay even later to finish shift work because _the goddamn placemats weren’t lined up evenly on the tables._ She made me redo all of them. God, I hate her and her chickenshit. And then the shitty vacuum kept acting up. I finally got so mad I cut the patched cord with a steak knife and told her that it broke. I can’t wait to get back to Arkadia.”

_But you won’t be there._

*****October 1996*****

Clarke had never been so glad for school to start in her life. Her parents drove her down at the start of the term in August and helped her get her things out of storage and set up her room. She was rooming with Becky this year, a freshman hallmate and one of her roommates the previous year. They weren’t super close, but Becky was a considerate roommate and nice. And Clarke hardly ever saw her anyway: she ran the long-distance events on the track team and was usually up at the crack of ass to train with her trackmates (and really, Clarke couldn’t fathom running distances so long that you needed a snack partway through); if she wasn’t there, she was in class, or one of her many labs, or studying in the library, or asleep by 11pm. She was a good roommate, but she wasn’t _Lexa._

The hijinks of the last two years had mostly passed. Upper-level coursework was more demanding and their lives had become more serious. Clarke still saw Raven, Octavia, and Ontari (though really only in group settings—they were civil, but unlikely to invite each other to any future weddings), but not as often, and the vibe was different. Octavia spent more and more time absorbed in B-School functions and Lincoln; Raven, for her part, clocked a lot of hours in the applied physics lab building Skynet ( _“Robots, Clarke!”_ ). Clarke spent a lot more time alone, but just as she had all summer, she pushed herself to stay busy so she wouldn’t have time to think, to reflect. She sought out volunteer opportunities at the Arkadia hospital and began working on MCAT prep on top of her assigned coursework and labs. She worked on community service projects with the campus Kiwanis group. None of it satisfied the aching emptiness in her chest, and sometimes she rode her bike aimlessly around town in the middle of the night to try to soothe the restlessness that kept her awake. 

Clarke closed her Chem book with a groan and winced at the gurgle in her stomach. She looked at the clock. Lunchtime already. She stretched, walked down the hall to the hall kitchen, and opened the freezer to pull out a microwave pizza. She was so hungry her mouth already watered in anticipation. _What the what?_ Her pizza was gone. Clarke frowned, closed the freezer door, and reopened it, as if that would make her food magically appear. Still no pizza. _Motherfucker._ Clarke slammed the freezer door shut with a resounding thud that shook the whole appliance. _Son of a fucking bitch._ “That’s the _third. fucking. time!_ ” she shouted, not caring who heard. Third pizza that some _bastard_ had _stolen_. She seethed all the way back to her room and scrawled an outraged—and profane—nastygram to the pizza thief that she then marched back to the kitchen and taped on the refrigerator. 

The passive-aggressive action abated her rage somewhat, though not her hunger, so she walked over to the dining hall in the student center in search of food. While there, she took a moment to check her mailbox. Her heart skipped at the sight of the telltale red-and-blue bordered airmail envelope in the small stack of mail. She hastened back to her room and settled in with her lunch and Lexa’s letter. 

_“Dear Clarke,_

_Hello from Prague! I’m sitting on the steps in Wenceslas Square as I write this, in the shadow of a building which has silently presided over more history than I can imagine—autocracy, wars, invasion, democratic stirrings and Soviet tanks, communist speeches and dissident protests, capitalism and commercialism. And sitting here, I realize I was right to come.”_

Clarke smiled at Lexa’s flair for the dramatic, but her smile faded as she read on. Difficulties had struck upon arriving at the airport, where no one met Lexa and the two other students and none of them spoke the language. 

_“Shock of my life—somehow in the last three weeks, the English study program I came here to enroll in completely dissolved. There are no classes for me, no intensive language sessions, and no other international students at the school except the three other Americans I came with (and one of them decided she couldn’t deal with this and went home). The next two and a half months scare the crap out of me.”_

She went on to describe her living arrangements, her two American roommates, and her attempts to navigate the city despite knowing next to no Czech. _“Hell, buying stamps today was a major accomplishment.”_ Nonetheless, she sounded upbeat. _“So I’m not having the typical study abroad experience I expected; I’m here because I chose to be here, and I know I’ll understand this place better **because** my program fell apart. And I feel like I’m learning a little bit about reality, too. I miss you, Clarke. Prague is exciting to see, but I wish you were here to see it with me (and then get drunk on cheap red wine). Please write and tell me about **anything** at home. And I want to know how you’re doing and what you’re thinking about random stuff. Love, Lexa.” _

Clarke folded the letter back into its envelope and tried to sniff back her tears. She sat still for a long time, so many emotions pulling at her that she didn’t know how she truly felt. Concerned for Lexa in a strange place, proud of her for soldiering through a difficult situation, amused at her observations of a different culture, even a little jealous of her adventures. But beneath it all, a keening sense of her absence. 

*****November 1996*****

Raven pounded on Clarke’s door and walked in without invitation. Clarke sat at her desk in a pair of sweatpants and a ratty t-shirt. “By all means, come on in, Rae,” she muttered dryly. She pushed her book aside and turned to face Raven, who was sporting a shiny short-sleeve shirt and tight jeans. Her normally-wavy hair bounced with volume; clearly the hot rollers had made an appearance.

“Clarke, we are going out,” Raven announced. She opened Clarke’s closet door and began poking through her clothes.

“Raven,” Clarke protested, “I’ve got a paper due Tuesday and a lab report to finish, I don’t have _time_ to go out. Besides, I don’t _want_ to.”

“No, Clarke,” Raven insisted in a tone that brooked no opposition. “You’ve been moping for weeks and everybody’s sick of it. You’re putting the books down, and O, Lincoln, Party Girl Griffin, and I are going to the frats. Here, put this on.” She pulled out a short black skirt and a fitted, low-cut, long-sleeved red top and tossed them at Clarke, who caught them automatically.

“Raven,” Clarke whined, “I’m not moping.”

Raven looked at her flatly. “That’s bullshit, and you know it. You’ve been running yourself into the ground because you’re miserable. Enough! Tonight we’re going out, you’re going to meet some people, have some fun, maybe even _finally_ get you laid.” She waggled her eyebrows and leered.

Clarke blushed, but took the clothes and started getting changed. She dabbed on some make-up, salvaged her hair as best she could, and they set off for frat row. Neither of them bothered with a jacket despite the brisk air, knowing it would be humid and sticky inside the frats. They met Octavia and Lincoln near the frathouses, both of them dressed for clubbing. Octavia gave a little squeal and hugged Clarke. “Clarke! This is going to be awesome, we haven’t been dancing in _forever!_ ” From the slight flush to her cheeks, Clarke presumed she and Lincoln had pre-gamed beforehand. They walked toward the one that seemed to have the most going on at the moment—KA, from the look of it—and waited in the short line. The frat brother at the door did a desultory ID check, but as women they were virtually assured admittance. Lincoln drew a sharp glance, but was waved in with the group.

They passed by the bar area to scoop up cans of cheap beer—Beast Ice, Clarke noted philosophically—and made their way to the dance floor. KA had the reputation of being the good ol’ boy/ “Old South” frat, and the music selection bore that out. Clarke nearly chugged her first beer, and then a second, and found herself loosening up enough to dance to “Devil went down to Georgia,” and “Sweet Home Alabama.” They quickly tired of the wanna-be redneck sensibility, and left to migrate from one frat to another. The scenario in each was almost identical—makeshift bar, shitty beer, darkened dance floor, lots of bros and even more increasingly inebriated girls—only the music varied slightly (though Sigma Nu was redolent with the aroma of weed).

Clarke had a couple more beers, not enough to get really drunk, but enough to feel loose and buzzed. She, Octavia, and Raven danced together as a group for much of the evening, but eventually Octavia paired off with Lincoln. Raven and Clarke had danced with a couple of different guys over the course of the night, but nothing too intense. Now, though, Raven was pressed up against a fratboy in a button down, grinding to Blackstreet. Clarke had a good idea how that was going to end. She stifled a grin and turned her back. In the process, she made eye contact with a tall boy dancing close by. He smiled and shifted over to her. He was kind of cute and had nice eyes, so Clarke shrugged, finished her drink, and let him dance with her. He bent down close to her ear and said loudly, to be heard over the music, “I’m Mark.”

“Clarke,” she called back.

After half an hour of Quad City DJs, Coolio, and yet another iteration of “Total Eclipse of the Heart,” Octavia and Lincoln announced that they were out. Raven had by this time entwined herself with her fratboy and was paying little attention. “Clarke, are you gonna be ok if we go?” Octavia shouted over the music with concern. “Pretty sure Raven can take care of herself,” she added with a bemused look.

Clarke leaned over to shout back, “Yeah, I’m ok, I didn’t have that much and I’m fine now.”

Octavia looked at the boy Clarke was dancing with, gave her a thumbs up and a smirk, and they left. Another twenty minutes and Raven had disappeared and Clarke found herself dancing to “Rumpshaker” and liplocked with Mark. His hands had wandered to her ass and Clarke didn’t really mind. _I think too much, I just need to feel. It doesn’t have to mean anything. I just want to feel…better._ When Mark took her hand and gently tugged her off the dance floor with a question in his eyes, Clarke let him.

*********

Clarke woke up early—she didn’t sleep well when she drank—pulled her clothes on, grimacing a little at the stickiness between her thighs, and slipped out of Mark’s room. She’d never done the so-called “walk of shame” before, but her clothes didn’t scream “stayed out all night,” so she shrugged it off. Her thoughts wandered as she walked home. She hadn’t told Mark it was her first time. Neither of them needed the added pressure. _So what if it wasn’t “special?” “Special” is overrated, and I’m tired of waiting. I’m nineteen and so what if I just wanted to get laid?_ She reassured herself. _I just needed to get the monkey off my back and stop thinking about it all the goddamn time. And it was…nice._ Not earthshattering. Not mindblowing. Not rock-your-world, can’t-walk-for-days, out-of-body experience like she’d heard and read about. But Mark had been a nice guy, and she felt…lighter…and maybe that was enough.

She passed through the student center and checked her mail on her way back to the dorm. She felt a tingle of excitement when she saw a letter from Lexa in the stack of mail. She picked up the pace to her dorm and slipped quietly into her room, but Becky was already gone. Clarke dropped her mail on the desk and stripped off her clothes to shower last night off her skin. Once clean and snuggled into a fresh pair of sweats, she crawled into her loft bed to read Lexa’s letter. This one was written on a typewriter with a clearly…different…keyboard.

_"Dear Clarke,_

_I got your letter last night. I had just gotten back from Budapest where we were for the weekend. Man, Clarke, I wish you were here. Maybe I had better write a letter about what this is really like. Sometimes this really sucks. ‘At least I’m in Prague,’ I tell myself, but you know, sometimes it doesn’t matter. I’m really freaking lonely pretty often. I’m so scared to try and talk to anyone, because I wonder if they’re judging me for not speaking at least some Czech. I’m working on it, but it’s slow. And my one roommate, Stella, is such a bitch. She’s this overprivileged girl from California who judges me for wanting to try to actually learn even though our program fell apart. And she sleeps with anyone with a pulse. She made so much fun of Stefan, this guy we’d all met, said he wasn’t attractive, but then she went for coffee with him, which turned into dinner, which turned into drinks, and then the next day she said, ‘yeah, I slept with him, but I really didn’t want to have a **relationship** with him.’ I pointed out that to many people, a relationship is a **prerequisite** for having sex.”_

Clarke’s face burned.

_“We may just have an all-out fist fight by the time I leave. My other roommate, Karen, is pretty nice. We were shopping the other day and I tried on this cute red and black plaid skirt (I know, right?). I thought it might be too short, but Karen insisted it wasn’t. And then when we got home, she told Stella, “Stell, you’ve got to see this skirt, it’s so short!’"_

Clarke drew in a breath. She did _not_ want to see Lexa in this skirt, her already long legs stretching for days and _plaid_ …. She blinked.

_“I think I might wear it to this dance we’ve been invited to by some embassy Marines. Little do they know :).”_

Clarke wanted to see this skirt.

_“So I’m seeing all this stuff, and Clarke, it’s fantastic to see, but sometimes all I can think is how worthless it is to do this all by myself. I wish you were here, because you would love this, and we would have a damn good time seeing it. I have big swings of whether I like it here or not. And sometimes I get scared thinking about these big vague things I’m heading towards. So anyhow, this letter sounds kind of melancholy. I wish it didn’t, because I’m learning so much and I do enjoy it—I guess I’d rather talk about it when I get back. I hope you’re ok, your last letter sounded pretty low. I hope you get out with O and Raven and have some fun so you can tell me all about it when I get home. Love you, Lexa.”_

Clarke curled into a ball. For the first time since Lexa went away, she let herself fall completely apart.


	8. Stickshifts and Safetybelts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> * title refers to Cake

*****June 2018*****

Lexa shoved her toiletries kit into her duffel bag and zipped the bag shut. She fidgeted around her townhouse, ostensibly making a final check to see if she’d forgotten anything, but really because she was antsy about meeting Anya and Raven. With her car in the shop for repairs, she’d told Anya that she’d have to skip the reunion, but Anya wouldn’t hear of it: “I’m not going to let you weasel out of this, Woods, you’ll ride down with me and Raven, and that’s that.” Anya had failed to mention that she and Raven planned to drive down early and spend a couple of days at Virginia Beach prior to the reunion. On one hand, Lexa was reluctant to take more time off work, and the added expense of a hotel room stretched her finances that much more, but she hadn’t taken a real vacation in a long time and secretly she looked forward to the prospect of some sun and relaxation. _Fuck it, that’s what credit cards are for._

The restlessness, however, went beyond trip anticipation. Lexa wasn’t concerned about Anya; they hadn’t seen each other in person for several years, but they still kept in touch fairly regularly. Based on past experience, she knew they’d be able to pick up right where they left off. Raven, though…. She hadn’t talked to Raven in…a really long time. And it was her own fault, she knew that. She was excited and hopeful at the chance to renew their friendship, but it also put her on edge. Anya hadn’t given her any indications, and she had no idea how Raven would respond to her. _And if Raven won’t forgive me, how can I expect Octavia…or Clarke…._

Lexa checked her phone yet again and finally decided it was almost time and she might as well go on outside to wait. She was standing outside her building with her duffel bag when Anya and Raven pulled up. They both got out of Anya’s car. Raven hung back a little bit, but Anya walked over and pulled Lexa into a hug. “It’s good to see you, Lexa,” she said simply. 

Lexa rested her chin on Anya’s shoulder. “It’s good to see you, too, Ahn,” she sighed. “It’s been too long.”

“That it has.” She gave Lexa a brisk clap on the back and stepped back. 

“Hey, Raven,” Lexa offered uncertainly. 

"Lexa,” Raven nodded a greeting, but made no attempt at approaching her. She gave off a noticeable chill.

Anya frowned slightly at the awkward tension. “So…when’s the last time you two actually talked?”

“Well, it was after my accident, so what would you say, Lexa, about eighteen years?” Raven said with an edge. She cocked her head to one side.

“Something like that,” Lexa mumbled with a sinking sensation. She turned away. “Look, Anya, this was probably a bad idea. You guys go on without me, I don’t need to go to the reun—”

“ _No_.” To Lexa’s surprise, the protest came from Raven, not Anya. Raven huffed. “Look, Lexa, I’m glad to see you,” her voice softened a touch, “ _really_ , I am. And I want you to come to the reunion, and I know everyone else does, too. But I’m also kind of _pissed_ at you! You were one of my best friends, and it’s like you just fell off the map. There’ve been so many times over the years that I’ve thought of you, wanted to talk to you, wondered how you were doing, but you were just…gone. Shit, I didn’t even know we’ve been living in the same city until I started seeing Anya and she told me. You didn’t come to Octavia and Lincoln’s wedding. And _Clarke_ —man, it bothered _me_ that you weren’t around, but _Clarke_ ….” She shook her head.

Lexa froze and felt the blood drain from her face. _How much did Clarke tell her?_

“Anyway,” Raven put her hands on her hips and raised her voice, “what the _hell_ , Lexa?” 

Lexa tilted her head back and looked toward the sky, her eyes starting to water. _I’m not going to cry. I’m not going to cry._ She inhaled a long breath through her nose and released it with a long shudder. “I’m sorry, Rae. I’m so, _so_ sorry.” Her voice cracked. “I was in a really bad place for a while. Dad’s stroke was a lot more difficult to deal with than I let anyone know. Between managing his care, and taking care of Aden, and finding a job to try to support us all— _working_ —and money was always so tight…and then the move….” Her voice trailed off for a moment as she pulled herself together. “I got really overwhelmed,” she said in a small voice. “I didn’t know how to talk about it, to anyone, it was just…too much. And it went on for _years_ , until Aden was old enough to be on his own, and Dad was finally doing better. I wanted to see you all, talk to you—but by then I didn’t know how to anymore.” She swiped at a tear that had fallen, unbidden. “I kind of fell down a hole and I didn’t really know how to get out of it,” she concluded quietly, finally making eye contact with Raven. She was surprised to see Raven’s eyes full of tears, too. 

"Oh, Lexa.” Raven finally moved toward her, wrapping her in a fierce embrace that Lexa reciprocated. “I wish you’d said,” she whispered into Lexa’s hair. “You didn’t have to go through that alone. I _missed_ you.”

“I missed you, too, Rae.” They clung together for a few moments longer before disengaging to clear their throats and dry their eyes. “Octavia’s gonna yell at me, too, isn’t she?” Lexa said with a rueful laugh.

“Oh, totally.”

Anya broke in sardonically, “If you two are done crying it out, can we hit the road? I want to get there before dark.”

Lexa rolled her eyes at Anya’s impatience, but she loaded her bag into the trunk and slid into the rear passenger seat. “Thanks again for letting me hitch a ride and tag along on your vacation.”

Anya waved her hand dismissively. “Don’t mind at all. If this is what it takes to get you to be social with everyone again, it’ll be worth it. Besides,” she shot a critical glance at Lexa in the rearview mirror, “you look like shit. You could use some sun.”

“Hey! I do not!” Lexa protested, until she caught Anya’s smug amusement in the mirror.

“No, really, a couple days of R&R at the beach, a few margaritas, some extra sleep—it’ll do wonders for those bags under your eyes. You want to look good when you see Clarke again, don’t you?” Anya eyes gleamed mischievously. 

“I do _not_ have _bags_ under my eyes! And…and…Clarke…I do not need to look _good_ because _Clarke_ will be there,” Lexa sputtered. “You’re impossible. How do you stand her, Raven?”

Raven grinned over at Anya. She took Anya’s hand and lifted it to her lips to brush a playful kiss across her knuckles. “Ehh, she’s not so bad once you get past the crusty exterior.” Lexa pretended to gag in the backseat. “Anyway, I don’t know about this extra sleep—you did get your own hotel room, didn’t you, Lexa?” she said, shifting sideways to look at Anya’s profile. “Because I kind of had some ideas for that jacuzzi tub….”

“ _Yes!_ I got my own room!” Lexa interrupted hastily, “And for the love of God, please do _not_ finish that sentence.”

The light-hearted sarcastic banter continued for much of the drive as the three women, but mostly Raven and Lexa, caught up. Raven talked enthusiastically about some of the projects she’d developed over the years, including the lightweight leg brace she’d designed in the aftermath of the car accident that left her with lingering spinal damage and wrecked ligaments in her leg. “It still hurts sometimes, but nothing a good massage can’t take care of,” with a sly leer at Anya. Lexa regaled them with some of the more interesting experiences she’d had on the road as a travel writer for National Geographic. “I’m mostly behind a desk now that I’m a senior editor, but I’ve got a trip coming up later this summer.”

The conversation inevitably turned to relationships. Raven filled Lexa in on Octavia and Lincoln and their two boys, as well as some of the other classmates she’d kept up with. Lexa carefully avoided mentioning Clarke, much to Raven’s private amusement. “So, Raven, I’ve gotta ask, because this one—” a glare at Anya “—won’t say. How the hell did _this_ —” pointing back and forth between Raven and Anya—“happen?”

“Well, I was at this leather bar,” Raven began.

Anya scoffed, “You _wish_ I’d been wearing leather.”

“Yeah…I kind of do….” Raven murmured appreciatively, her thoughts drifting from the conversation.

“ _Raven!_ ”

Raven grinned cheekily. “Ok, ok. Really, it’s not that exciting. There was an alumni meet-up at the Air and Space Museum a few months ago—as if I would pass up space and wine—and this smoking hot chick was hovering by the h’ordeuvres table—”

“I’d just moved into my apartment and it was free food!” Anya grumbled.

“—and when I went over to introduce myself—”

“ _Hit on_ ,” coughed Anya.

Raven narrowed her eyes at Anya. “—it turned out to be Anya, and we hit it off.”

“Uh huh, ‘hit it off.’” Lexa hummed skeptically. “Tell me you didn’t bang in the lunar module.” 

Raven tossed her head. “Of course not, _Lexa_ , you know they’ve got it roped off. Now, the Boeing 747 cockpit, on the other hand…”

“ _Oh my God stop talking!_ ” Lexa shuddered and clapped her hands over her face.

Raven just laughed. “What about you, Lexa? Are you seeing anyone?” 

Lexa gave a short laugh. “No, not for a while. I was with someone for a long time--Costia—but it didn’t work out. And after we split up, I went back to doing a lot of travel, and that doesn’t lend itself well to relationships,” she concluded, a little bitterly.

“Hm,” Raven mused thoughtfully. “So how long’s it been, then?”

Lexa pretended not to take her meaning. “Since what?”

Raven gave an exasperated sigh. “Sex, Lexa. Since you had it?”

Lexa flushed and squirmed awkwardly in her seat. “I dunno, a while,” she muttered evasively. _Long enough I can’t remember exactly._ She caught the devious look on Raven’s face reflected in the passenger window. “Raven. _No_ ,” she said warningly.

“Oh, yes.” Raven rubbed her hands together and smirked gleefully. “Operation Get Lexa Laid is in full effect.”

Lexa groaned and dropped her head back onto the seat back. “Ugh, Rae, not again. Cause it turned out _so_ well the last time,” she complained.

Raven and Anya shared an unreadable look. Raven shrugged. “Maybe not for _you_.”

*****March 1997*****

Lexa trudged into Raven and Octavia’s room and plopped down on the floor by the bed. “Hey guys, sorry I’m late. Did I miss it?” 

Octavia was stretched out on her bed, and Raven and Clarke sat in beanbags on the floor in front of the TV. They hunched over paper plates and slices of pizza. “Hey, Lexa,” Clarke answered with her mouth full. “No, show’s just about to start. Did you eat? There’s pizza if you want some.”

“God, yes,” Lexa groaned, moving to load a plate with pizza. “I had class all morning and work all afternoon, and all I had time to eat for lunch was a banana and some yogurt. I’ve been running all day.” She did look frazzled: wispy strands of hair were slipping out of her ponytail, her jeans appeared to have stains on them, and one corner of the collar of the button-down shirt she wore under her faded sweater was flipped up and askew. Clarke found it endearing. 

Clarke scooted over and patted the space next to her on the beanbag. “Come sit, I know the floor isn’t comfortable.”

Lexa gratefully snuggled in next to Clarke and moaned in relief when she stretched her legs out. Clarke felt a sudden tingle in her belly at the sound. “Feels so good to be off my feet,” she mumbled through her pizza. 

“Shh! It’s on!” Raven waved at them to hush, and the four of them relaxed to watch the trials and tribulations of Ross and Rachel. When the show ended, Clarke and Lexa lay peacefully tangled together, appetites sated. Lexa’s head rested on Clarke’s shoulder. Neither of them really wanted to move. 

“Ugh, I’m glad she ended it with him,” Clarke declared. “He’s so smarmy. And he _cheated_ on her. That’s so not cool.”

“I know _I_ wouldn’t cheat on Jennifer Aniston,” Lexa muttered under her breath. Clarke snickered and elbowed her in the ribs. Lexa blushed. “But Clarke—it wasn’t really cheating. I mean, they _were_ on a break.”

"That’s beside the point, Lexa!” Clarke insisted touchily. She turned her head to look Lexa in the face. 

“Well, it kind of _is_ , Clarke!” Lexa shot back with irritation. “How can it be _cheating_ if they’re not actually _together_?” She struggled to rip her gaze away from Clarke’s dangerously darkening eyes. 

“But it was a _misunderstanding_ , Lexa! If he really loved her, he never would have cheated on her! It had only been like a day!” The color rose in Clarke’s face and Lexa felt a similar warmth blooming on her own cheeks. _I would never cheat on **you** , Clarke._ Lexa’s breath caught in her throat a little at the thought, and she shifted abruptly, breaking the tension. 

Octavia and Raven watched the exchange with barely disguised mirth. 

Lexa rolled away as if to leave. “Aw, Lex, don’t be mad—it’s just a stupid show. Aren’t you going to stay for _Seinfeld_ and _ER_?” Clarke protested.

Lexa pulled a face. “Eh, you know I can’t stand _Seinfeld_. I’m not mad, I’ve just got too much to do.” She flopped back onto the beanbag. “I’m behind on reading in at least two classes, I’ve got a rough draft for a fifteen-page paper I haven’t even started due right after spring break, a final project proposal due for another class, I’ve got to work on internship applications because I still don’t know what I’m doing this summer, and work upped my hours because tourist season is picking up—which is good, I can use the money, but still. I’m just so _stressed_.” _And sitting next to you when you’re all soft and warm and your eyes sparkle and your shirt clings to your chest like **that** does **not** help_. She let out a frustrated sigh. “And I know you guys all are, too—Clarke just took the MCAT, and Raven and O, you’re up to your eyeballs with classes and applications, too. I’m sorry for bitching, I don’t know why it’s getting to me so much.” She sat up again to leave.

Raven eyed her knowingly. “You need some stress relief.”

Lexa looked at her bewildered. “Yeah, isn’t that what I just said?”

“No, I mean you need some _stress relief_.” This time the innuendo was unmistakable. 

Lexa’s face turned bright red. “Rae, _no_ , it’s not _that_ —”

Raven silenced her with a look. “Lexa. Seriously. When’s the last time you got laid?”

 _Last time? You mean only time._ “Well, there was this girl in Prague,” Lexa replied weakly, careful not to look at Clarke, whose mouth had dropped open in a small O. 

“Well, no wonder you’re so frustrated, then, that was months ago,” Raven stated practically. She clapped her hands together and rubbed them briskly. “Ok, then, Operation Get Lexa Laid is on.”

“Oh my God,” Lexa whispered, hiding her face with a hand. “I do _not_ like the sound of this.” 

Clarke really didn’t, either.

“Here’s what we’re gonna do. Next week is spring break, we’ll all be around—”

“Actually,” Octavia said sheepishly, “Lincoln and I kind of already made plans….”

Raven closed her eyes and shook her head slightly. “Of course you did. Anyway, the _three_ of us will be here—you and Clarke have work, and I’ve got experiments running that I have to monitor. Ooh! And it’ll be St. Patrick’s Day! We’re going to a club!”

Clarke frowned. “Raven, there aren’t any real clubs around here.”

Raven grinned. “That’s why we’ll go to Richmond. Come on, Lexa’s got a car now, it’s not that far. I found this great place the last time I was home. One of us can drive up, and Clarke can drive us back. And Anya’s at VCU,” she pointed out. “We can see if she wants to meet us since _Octavia_ is _otherwise engaged_ ,” she finished loudly. 

“Fuck you, Rae!” Octavia flipped her the bird.

Raven smirked at her sweetly. “You wish, bitch!”

“Wait a minute, Raven,” Clarke sat up with a frown. “How come I have to drive back?”

“Well, we’re trying to help Lexa out, so obviously she shouldn’t be the driver. And you’re the only one of us who’s still underage, so….”

Clarke scowled in resignation. “…sucks to be me. Just one problem, Raven—I don’t know how to drive a stick.”

Raven brushed her off. “Eh, Lexa can teach you by then.”

Lexa sat a little dazed as the plans solidified around her. “Uh, you guys, don’t I have a say in this?”

Raven and Clarke both turned to her. “ _No!!_ ”

*********

Later that week, Clarke and Lexa walked over to the parking lot on the far side of campus for a driving lesson. Lexa’s rust-colored 1983 Subaru hatchback wasn’t much to look at, but it ran well and hadn’t cost a lot. Lexa loved it and promptly christened it “The Fire-Tipped Dart of God’s Love” (Fire-Tipped Dart for short). There were still too many cars in the lot for Lexa’s liking, so she decided they would find a quiet, residential area for Clarke to practice in. She popped the locks and they got in. 

“Ok, Clarke, you’ve got your right foot for the gas and brake, and your left foot for the clutch. In order to get the car to go, you have to push in the clutch and shift it into gear.” Lexa demonstrated by reversing out of the parking spot. “The trick is that you can’t just stomp on the gas—you have to have the right touch and the right timing to ease off the clutch just as you press down on the accelerator. You have to start off slow and pay attention, but once you get the feel for where that sweet spot is, it’ll come pretty easily.”

She put the car in gear and drove toward a nearby subdivision. Clarke watched closely as she worked through the different gear positions, calling them out as she shifted. “When you hear the rpms cranking up or down—and you’ll feel it, too—that’s when you’ll know to shift. Here, give me your hand.” She took Clarke’s hand and put it on the gearshift and then placed her own hand on top of Clarke’s, gently wrapping her own long fingers around Clarke’s. Clarke barely suppressed a shiver at the warm touch. _Holy shit, have her hands always been this soft?_

“Do you hear the transmission revving up? Can you feel that?” Clarke nodded vigorously. _I can definitely feel that._ “Means we want to shift from second to third. So I push in the clutch…shift,” she guided Clarke’s hand under her own as she moved the shifter, “and then let off the clutch as I’m giving it more gas.” She looked over and caught Clarke’s eyes, which were a noticeably darker shade of blue than usual. Lexa felt her own pulse thrum at the sight. “Um, make sense?” Clarke nodded again. Lexa tore her gaze away and unconsciously caressed the side of Clarke’s hand with her thumb. She missed the way that Clarke’s nostrils flared with a sudden intake of breath. 

“I’m going to keep driving and I’ll tell you when to shift and help you find the gears, ok?”

Clarke licked her suddenly dry lips and squeaked out, “ok.”

“Ok, now.” Shift. “Now.” Shift. “Now.” Shift. Clarke swore the heat from Lexa’s hand was radiating up her arm, and her gentle but firm direction fogged her brain. She snapped out of her daze when she registered Lexa removing the warmth of her hand.

“Uh, what?” she blurted.

Lexa gave her a quizzical look. “I said now you’re going to do it without me telling you.”

“Oh. Right.” 

They practiced a little longer until they reached a quiet neighborhood and Lexa judged that Clarke had gotten the hang of it. She pulled the car over. “All right, you’ve gotten shifting down, let’s switch so you can learn how to work the clutch.” 

They switched drivers. The cool air felt good on Clarke’s inexplicably flushed skin, and she gulped several deep breaths to center herself before getting into the driver’s seat. They buckled in and she started the car. 

“Have you got the clutch in?” Lexa asked. “Ok, put it in first and _slowly_ give it some gas as you _slowly_ let off the clutch.” The car bucked and jolted as it stalled out. Clarke groaned. “No, it’s ok, that happens. Try again.” Several more attempts, and Clarke managed to get the car moving. She had a few more stalls and sickening grinding of gears when she tried to shift up and down, but Lexa had been right, and before long she had the car cruising smoothly. 

“See? Told you you’d get it,” Lexa said encouragingly. Clarke beamed over at her with pride. Lexa felt an answering thump in her chest. _God, what I’d give to see that smile all the time._

Clarke had the car tooling along in third or fourth gear when she realized the street ended in an unexpected cul-de-sac and they were about to run out of road. “Um, Lexa, how do I stop?” she said in a panicked voice.

“Hit the clutch and the brakes at the same time _right now_ , Clarke!!” Lexa called back, reaching for the overhead grab handle. Tires skidded and the car lurched to an abrupt halt. Clarke and Lexa sat motionless, hearts pounding. “Yeah…probably should have gone over stopping,” Lexa noted wryly.

Once the adrenaline abated, Lexa let Clarke drive back to campus. Oddly enough, the near-accident had scared away most of Clarke’s nerves, and she was able to relax a bit. “So...” she began uncomfortably, a question she was dying to ask, but not sure she wanted an answer to. “You met someone in Prague?”

"Huh?” Lexa frowned in confusion.

“The other night. You said you…that there was a girl…when you were in Prague.”

“Oh. Yeah.” Lexa blushed. “Her name was Petra. It was…just a one-time thing.”

“Mm. How come…” Clarke studiously avoided Lexa’s eyes. “How come you never said anything?”

It was Lexa’s turn to avoid eye contact. “I don’t know, Clarke—it just…” _wasn’t who I really wanted?_ “It’s hard for me to talk about, even with you.” _Especially with you._ “I mean, I know who I am, what I like, what I _want_ ,” _and what I can’t have_ “but it’s not always easy for me to pick up on signals. I mean, girls don’t go around with ‘I Like Chicks’ in big letters on their foreheads. Most girls,” she amended. “So it can be nervewracking…to put myself out there, only to get rejected—or worse. I’m not like Raven, she just jumps in and doesn’t worry about it. But in Prague, I don’t know, I guess it was because every day was like that, all the time—somehow that made it easier to take some chances.” She finally looked over at Clarke, who was listening intently. “It’s different for you; you’re straight—it’s easier to tell who you have a chance with and who you don’t.”

 _Not always_ , Clarke thought.

She puffed out a pensive sigh. “I’m not saying it very well.” She sat quietly for a moment, but Clarke could tell she wasn’t finished. “I’d never, you know… _been with_ a girl. And God, Clarke, I was _so_ ready, I was _so_ damn horny, you have no idea!” she burst out, her face flaming.

Clarke laughed, and the corner of Lexa’s mouth quirked up in a wry half-smile. “And Petra was _there_ , and I was _lonely_ …and I bitched to you about Stella so much, I guess I just didn’t want you to judge me for doing the same thing, ” she concluded sheepishly. 

“Lexa,” Clarke said firmly. Lexa finally twisted to look at her, and Clarke felt her breath skip at the intensity in her eyes. She took her hand off the gearshift long enough to reach over and give Lexa’s hand a quick squeeze. She drew in a deep breath and said, “Let me tell you about Mark….”

*********

Raven banged on Lexa’s door. “Lexa, it’s us! Are you ready to go?”

Lexa opened the door for them. “Yeah, come on in, I just have to find my shoes.”

Raven and Clarke came in. Raven took one look at Lexa and shook her head. “Um, no. This—” waving a hand at Lexa’s outfit—“isn’t happening.” Clarke took a seat on Lexa’s bed while Raven focused on making Lexa over. “Ok, why would you _possibly_ think that a short-sleeved _turtleneck_ would be a good option for a club?” 

“It’s _tasteful_ , Raven!” 

Raven rolled her eyes and began to root through Lexa’s closet. “Tasteful isn’t going to get you laid. Take a page out of Clarke’s book,” she said, jerking her head in Clarke’s direction. “Although Clarke doesn’t know what she’s in for,” she muttered under her breath in private amusement. “Jesus, do you own anything that isn’t plaid?”

Lexa frowned in confusion and looked over at Clarke. Her jaw dropped and her eyebrows shot toward her hairline. Clarke was wearing a tight green johnny-collared shirt that showed off an impressive amount of cleavage and _oh my god, are those black velvet pants?_ Lexa’s chest constricted and she had to physically shake her head to smother the thought of running her hands _over the soft plush fabric with Clarke’s firm thighs underneath_. She whipped her head back to Raven, who had finally pieced together an acceptable outfit. Raven grinned wickedly at Lexa’s deer-in-the-headlights expression and shoved some clothes at her. “You want to look good, don’t you? Change. This will look fine with those black boots.”

Clarke kept her eyes carefully averted while Lexa changed, a courtesy she somewhat regretted on seeing the finished outcome. Everyday Lexa in her t-shirt and jeans was adorable, but Lexa dressed to go out was stunning. Her chestnut hair tumbled past the shoulder of her moss green v-neck shirt, which accented her breasts in a way her usual t-shirts never did. Her black jeans molded to her toned ass and thighs. The black boots capped the ensemble by highlighting Lexa’s sleek long legs. 

Raven cocked her head to the side and assessed her work. “Ok, now, makeup.”

“ _Raven_ ,” Lexa whined.

Raven shushed her and made her stand still. “Don’t be a baby. Just a touch of mascara to really highlight those long lashes and make your eyes really pop. There, all done. What do you think, Clarke, better?”

Clarke made an inarticulate noise. _Holy shit. I could get lost in that forest of green. Dammit, Griffin, she’s your best friend, don’t stare!_ “Yeah, definitely…better,” she said faintly. 

“Ok, bitches! Let’s do this!” Raven declared, grabbing Clarke and Lexa by their sleeves and hustling them out the door.

They piled into the Fire-Tipped Dart and hit the road. Clarke couldn’t decide whether it was a good thing or a bad thing that the shotgun seat afforded her the perfect opportunity to steal sneaky glimpses of Lexa’s profile in the darkened car. They chattered and sang along with the radio for much of the forty-five minute drive. Once they reached the city, Raven gave Lexa directions to the club and they finally pulled into the lot and parked. 

As they walked toward the entrance, Clarke clocked the small rainbow flag displayed in the window. “Hey, Rae,” she asked hesitantly, “is this—”

“—a _gay bar?_ Are you fucking with me, Raven?” Lexa rounded on Raven, not sure whether to punch her or kiss her. 

Raven held up her hands. “Lexa, chill. Nobody’s trying to fuck with you, I swear,” she said placatingly. “Clarke didn’t know, and I didn’t say anything because I wanted it to be a surprise, and honestly, I was afraid you’d get nervous and back out if I told you.” Still catching the uncertain play of emotions on Lexa’s face, she reasoned, “Look, I know I’ve been teasing you about getting laid, but that’s all it is—just teasing. It’s women's night; we’re just here to dance and have a good time. You’ve been so stressed, I thought you might enjoy someplace where you can be more open and not on your guard so much.” Lexa’s tension relaxed. “It’s just a chance to hang out, dance, meet people—maybe it helps you get laid, probably not—but we’re just here to have fun. Just be yourself and let your hair down a little. Come on,” she took Lexa’s arm, “are we good?”

“Yeah. I still wish you’d told me, though,” Lexa groused.

Raven added over her shoulder to Clarke, “I wasn’t making it up, though—I’ve been here a few times, and it’s a lot of fun. Hey, I see Anya!” 

She threw her arm up to wave, and the three of them met Anya at the door and went in. Clarke didn’t really know what she’d expected, but it was just a normal bar, albeit with a far higher concentration of women and a fair smattering of men. The music pulsed loudly with a mix of dance, pop, and r&b hits. It was a weeknight, but thanks to St. Patrick’s Day, the bar was already packed and even the dance floor was pretty full. Clarke caught a few appreciative glances directed their way as they made their way through the crowd to the bar, where a sign advertised green beer and Jameson specials. She cursed her luck, but gamely stuck with something nonalcoholic. Drinks in hand, they worked their way to a slightly less crowded part of the bar where they could hear each other. 

The four of them toasted and cheered to St. Paddy’s Day. Anya punched Lexa playfully on the arm. “Lexa! It’s good to see you getting out! How was Prague?”

Lexa gave Raven a small smile. “I’m glad we came,” she called back. “Prague was…interesting, but it’s a long story I’ll have to tell you later. How’s law school?”

Anya made a face and sucked on her drink. “We’re here to have fun, let’s not talk shop! Let’s go dance.” She jerked her head toward the dance floor and moved off. Lexa hesitated a step, then followed after her. Raven, though, held back and put her hand on Clarke’s arm.

“Hey, Clarke, would you mind hanging here by the bar, just for a little bit?”

“Uh, no, why?” Clarke asked in confusion.

“I don’t know if Lexa has enough nerve to go up to a girl yet, and if all of us are out there it’ll look like we’re a big group or you two are a couple, and then nobody will approach her. Just for a little while, is that ok?”

 _Why would anyone think Lexa and I are a couple?_ “Ok, but Rae, won’t the same thing happen with you and Anya out there?”

Raven tracked Anya, who was wearing a sleeveless top—in green, naturally—that showed off her toned biceps and just skimmed the waist of her black leather pants when she lifted her arms over her head. Her eyes lit with an almost predatory gleam. “Leave that to me,” she said cryptically, and glided away. 

Clarke did as Raven asked and remained near the bar. She bopped a little in time to the music, sipped her drink, and scanned the dimly-lit room. The crowd seemed young, mostly in their twenties. She felt soft pressure at her side, and turned to discover a woman with short, dark hair had squeezed up to the bar beside her. She had a dusting of freckles across her nose and friendly green eyes. _Not as green as Lexa’s though._ Clarke pushed the thought aside. 

“Sorry about that,” the woman apologized, leaning into Clarke’s ear to be heard over the music. She looked past Clarke’s shoulder. “Are you here by yourself?” she asked curiously. Her eyes drifted slowly down Clarke’s body before jerking back up to her face. 

“No,” Clarke gestured, “my friends are on the dance floor.”

She nodded in understanding. “Mind if I buy you a drink?” 

_What do I do?_ Clarke thought wildly. “Um, ok. Club soda with lime?”

The stranger raised her eyebrows and gave an easy grin. “Cheap date, eh?”

Clarke blushed. “No, I’m the driver tonight.”

She clucked in sympathy. “Bummer.” 

Clarke hung at the bar making light conversation with the stranger. She _was_ cute, Clarke admitted, shooting her an appraising side eye, but her attention kept straying back to the dance floor like a compass seeking true north. Anya and Raven had paired off and were dancing together—Clarke raised an eyebrow at that, but no matter—and _Lexa_. Lexa was smiling broadly and dancing with another woman with a verve that Clarke had rarely seen from her. Clarke felt her pulse throb at her temple and something sharp curled in the pit of her stomach.

“Ok, well, good talking to you, Clarke.” Clarke felt a hand on her arm and realized the woman she’d been talking to was about to move away.

“Sorry, uh, thanks for the drink?” Clarke said questioningly.

The stranger smiled ruefully and nodded her head toward the dance floor. “I can tell you’re already here with someone, so I’m not gonna push. Have a fun night.” She faded back into the throng.

_With someone? I’m not with someone. Well, Raven and Anya and Lexa, but…._

*********

Over the next couple of hours, the four friends alternated between dancing and quick refreshment breaks at the bar. The club’s St. Patrick’s Day revelry grew more boisterous as the alcohol consumption levels climbed. (Clarke really couldn’t fault it—in her opinion, anyone who drove snakes out of Ireland _deserved_ a holiday.) Lexa had danced with one or two other women, but she didn’t seem inclined to pursue anything beyond that, not even getting their phone numbers. She and Clarke had hardly been on the dance floor together at all. Now, however, nearing the end of the evening, Raven and Anya were nowhere to be seen, and Clarke and Lexa found themselves dancing with each other. 

The crush of bodies on the dance floor pushed them together. Lexa put her hands on Clarke’s waist and whispered in Clarke’s ear, “Is this ok?” Clarke shivered at Lexa’s heated breath. She nodded and edged a little closer, allowing her arms to drape around Lexa’s neck. Lexa’s eyes fluttered shut—she didn’t even realize she danced with her eyes closed most of the time, a detail that enthralled Clarke. Clarke focused her attention on Lexa’s blissful face to distract herself from the warm weight of Lexa’s hands on her hips. They had no sooner drifted closer than the opening strains of “Damn, I Wish I Was Your Lover” came on the soundsystem. Lexa’s eyes shot open and they both cracked up. The laughter faded from Lexa’s face when she caught the intense blue of Clarke’s eyes and the pink spreading across her cheeks. Her eyes fell shut again and her hands slipped to Clarke’s ass, stroking gently over the crushed velvet of her pants and drawing Clarke’s hips nearly flush with her own. She gave herself over to the music, singing along softly and swaying her hips and Clarke’s in a sensual rhythm. 

Clarke gasped at the sensation and felt a throb between her thighs. Instead of retreating though, she nuzzled her face deeper into the juncture of Lexa’s neck and shoulder and breathed her in as their bodies moved in tandem. Sweat, shampoo, and beneath it, a sweeter, earthier scent. _Lexa._ The butterflies in her belly surged and she felt herself on the brink of spiraling past _something_. 

The song ended, breaking the mood and sending a virtual wave of cold water over Clarke. _Holy shit, what am I **doing**? She’s my best friend, we can’t do this!_ She sucked in a breath and gently disengaged from Lexa. Lexa’s eyes were dilated and her skin almost glowed. “I need some water,” Clarke stuttered. “We should—we should probably go soon.”

“Right,” Lexa nodded, still in a daze. She licked her dry lips. “I’ll…go see where Raven and Anya are and meet you outside.” She turned toward the restroom.

Clarke almost ran to the bar and gulped down a cup of water. An older woman beside her nudged her and leaned over. “You and your girlfriend make a cute couple.”  
Clarke choked. “She’s not…we’re…I’m not…she’s not my _girlfriend!_ ” She stammered.

The woman shook her head and gave her a sympathetic smile. She patted Clarke’s hand on the bar and sighed, “Oh, sweetie,” before walking away.

Clarke’s mind reeled and her body still tingled from the scorching heat of Lexa’s hands. _And I’m not even **drunk.**_ She walked outside. The contrast between the early spring night air and the superheated atmosphere of the club cleared away some of the haze. Lexa emerged a few minutes later. 

“I found Raven in the bathroom. She said she’d get Anya and meet us at the car.” Lexa’s face was flushed, not just from the alcohol, and she stumbled a little as they headed for the car. Clarke took her arm to steady her. She bit back a groan at the heat and weight of Lexa’s body when she pressed up against her side. Lexa gabbled away as Clarke maneuvered them to the car. 

“Clarke, this was so much fun. I’m so glad we came here!” She tossed her head back and threw her arms in the air and giggled. “I wanna keep dancing!” She tried to swivel her hips, but the alcohol was starting to catch up and Clarke had to scramble to keep her upright. 

“Ok, Tina Turner, how about we get you to the car?” Clarke managed to get Lexa to the Fire-Tipped Dart and propped her against the car while she fumbled for the keys. Lexa swayed on her feet a little. She stretched her hand out and smoothed Clarke’s hair back. Her hand slid to cup Clarke’s cheek, and Clarke stilled, closing her eyes and shivering at the touch.

“Clarke,” Lexa whispered urgently. “Clarke…god, you’re beautiful.” Her free hand found Clarke’s waist and dragged her insistently into her body. Clarke knew better, wanted to resist, _but fuck, she’s so soft and gorgeous with her eyes glowing like that…._ Lexa slid her hand through Clarke’s hair to cup the back of her neck. “Clarke, I want…” she murmured thickly. Her eyes focused on Clarke’s lips and her hand drew Clarke’s head down toward her own….

_Ohhh God, we can’t!_

Clarke summoned her rapidly evaporating self-control and braced her hands on the car on either side of Lexa’s body. She held herself back when Lexa tried to pull her in. “Lex….” She tipped her forehead forward to meet Lexa’s. “Lex, babe, no, you’re drunk. We’re not doing this. Not…like this. You’ll regret this tomorrow.” _I know I’ll regret saying no._ Lexa whined a little in protest, but Clarke gathered herself and drew back. “Come on, let’s get you in the car, Raven will be here any minute.” She folded Lexa into the passenger seat and buckled her in.

As if on cue, Raven rambled up to the car. Her hair was a little rumpled and her face and lips seemed flushed, but Clarke chalked that up to the aftermath of dancing and drinking. 

“Rae, where’ve you been? Where’s Anya?” Clarke frowned.

“Oh, I just told her goodbye, she headed out,” Raven said shiftily. She moved to get in the backseat. “You good to drive?”

Clarke shrugged. _Whatever._ “Yeah, let’s go.” 

By the time they hit the interstate, Raven and Lexa had both zonked out in their respective seats. Clarke looked fondly at Lexa, lightly snoring in the passenger seat, and resisted the temptation to reach over and smooth back her wild tangle of hair. Her heart thumped faster at the sight. She didn’t know what to make of the evening and was too tired to sort through it tonight. Instead, she turned down the volume on the radio so as not to wake the two girls and popped in the tape in the tape deck. She smiled when she realized it was one of the mixtapes she’d sent to Lexa last summer, and she sang quietly along with the tape the rest of the way home.

_“I would walk five hundred miles and I would walk five hundred more….”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Who wants driving lessons? ;)


	9. Best Thing that Never Happened

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> *Title refers to Paul Westerberg

*****June 2018*****

Clarke sat at the bar and toyed nervously with the straw in her club soda. She’d been determined to be on time for once, and as a result had arrived twenty minutes early for her date. _Date._ She grimaced and resisted the temptation to check her phone again. She didn’t want to appear rude or self-absorbed by being on her phone when the woman showed up, but she was growing increasingly restive as time wore on. She’d only agreed to the date in the first place because Octavia had been on her ass for months to “get back out there, Clarke!” _Right. Like she would fucking know, she’s been with Lincoln her entire adult life. Easy to tell someone else to do something that you’ll never have to do yourself._ Zoe Monroe had told Clarke about her attractive single neighbor—“Luna’s really sweet, I know you two would hit it off, Clarke”—and Clarke made the mistake of mentioning the conversation to Octavia. Octavia had been after her about it ever since, until she finally caved and asked Monroe to give Luna her number. Luna seemed to have spectacularly poor timing, though: she called the week before the reunion, when Clarke was already swamped with work. Clarke hadn’t wanted to seem like she was putting her off by, well, putting her off, so they’d made plans for dinner early in the week. 

_At least it’s better than online dating._ Octavia had also badgered her into filling out a profile on OK Cupid. She’d gotten quite a few responses (her favorite was the laconic-yet-eloquently-expressive one-word message: “Sex?”), but it had been over a year and she still hadn’t managed to pull the trigger and contact anyone. Her hesitation exasperated Octavia, and frankly, Clarke didn’t really understand her reluctance herself. Not for the first time, she wished Niylah hadn’t moved away. What she’d had with Niylah hadn’t really been a relationship, but the sex had been great and she was…uncomplicated. She and Niylah didn’t _date_ ; they hung out, they went out for drinks, they watched bad TV, they fucked, but Clarke had never considered it _dating_ , and she was pretty sure Niylah hadn’t either. _What the hell even *is* a date these days?_ She couldn’t really even imagine the concept anymore, it had been so long since she’d really been on a date, since Finn….

She fidgeted some more and contemplated ordering an actual drink to take the edge off. _Cool it, Griffin, no need to start drinking before she even gets here. You don’t want to look like a lush. Or get drunk and then maybe do something stupid._

“Hi, are you Clarke?” She stood and turned at the sound of her name. “I’m Luna.” Clarke shook the hand the woman offered. Monroe was right, she was attractive: smooth, light caramel skin, almost liquid brown eyes, full lips that curved upward and glistened with a touch of lip gloss. A mass of dark, unruly hair curled down her back, and her flowing, sleeveless earth-toned dress showed off her figure to good effect. Clarke tried not to stare. “Zoe showed me your photo,” she explained. “Have you been waiting long?”

“No, not at all,” Clarke fibbed. “I was a little early. Nerves. It’s been a while since I’ve been on, you know, a date.” She mentally facepalmed. _Smooth, Griffin. ‘It’s been a while?’ You have zero game._ She hastily cleared her throat. “Shall we?” She led the way over to the hostess stand. She sensed Luna’s gaze taking in her own body, clad in a simple, loose blue top and a cute flippy skirt and sandals, and she made a conscious effort to mind her posture. 

It was a pretty, early summer evening, so they opted to sit on the patio and enjoy the warm weather. Luna ordered a gin and tonic and Clarke went with a glass of white wine. They made small talk about the weather and the neighborhood while they waited for the server to return and take their orders. “Monroe—Zoe, I mean—didn’t tell me a lot about you, just that you moved into her building a few months ago. What do you do?” Clarke asked.

“I run a holistic healing center and yoga studio,” Luna said placidly.

Clarke gulped. “Wow, so you must be pretty limber.” Her eyes widened. _Oh shit, was that my outside voice?_ “I mean, I hear yoga is good for flexibility and, uh, balance!” she stammered and tried unsuccessfully to fight off a blush.

Luna gave her a bemused look. “It is. Have you tried it?”

Clarke made a face. “Once. But I got completely tangled up in one of those one-legged arm in the air stances and it didn’t end well. Let’s just say I’m not super coordinated. I mostly stick to boot camp, when I can work it in.”

Luna smiled. “You should give it another try, come by my studio sometime.”

“Um, yeah, I’ll think about that,” Clarke lied.

The server came back to collect their orders. Clarke opted for the Springer Mountain roast chicken. Luna chose a roasted quinoa and mushroom dish. “I don’t eat the flesh of animals, Clarke,” she said serenely, handing her menu to the waiter.

Clarke choked a little. “Uh, well, the chicken is ethically raised…” she responded weakly. _Jesus, Griffin, ‘ethically raised?’ Could you shove your foot further down your throat?_

Luna let Clarke’s awkward verbal fumbling pass. “So Clarke, you work with Zoe?”

“Well, we work at the same hospital, but she does surgical work. I focus more on the post-surgical and rehabilitory aspects of treatment,” Clarke explained. “We see some of the same patients.”

“Are you a doctor, then?” Luna was confused.

“Yes and no. I’m a doctor, but my degree’s in occupational therapy. I’m not technically a medical doctor, although I started out intending to be a surgeon, even did a couple of years of medical school.” 

“Oh? What changed your mind?”

Clarke sipped her wine slowly, trying to think of a simple way to explain without getting into her whole life story. “My mom was a surgeon—still is—and I grew up thinking I wanted to do that, too. But in med school, it felt like we were learning all about how to treat abstract diseases or injuries and not much about treating the actual patient—the person. And I had a couple of friends that had difficult struggles with rehab—one of them got injured pretty badly in a car accident.” _And Lexa._ Her mouth crooked in a small, wistful smile. “Long story short, I dropped out and went into a different field. I haven’t really regretted it.”

Their entrees arrived and the conversation shifted to other topics while they ate. Clarke’s initial awkwardness diminished, and she relaxed and enjoyed Luna’s company. As they finished their meals, she said, “I’m glad we did this. I’m sorry it had to be a weeknight, but I’ll be out of town all weekend.”

Luna quirked a questioning eyebrow, but her mouth was full. “My twenty-year college reunion,” Clarke explained.

Luna nodded and finished her last bite. “Where did you go to school?” 

“Arkadia. Have you ever been there, to the historic district?” Luna shook her head no. “You should visit sometime, if you get a chance. It’s pretty neat. My roommate, Lexa, used to be a docent there. She used to tell me these hilarious stories about crazy questions she got from tourists….” Clarke waxed on about the historic area and somehow segued into stories of some of her college friends and shenanigans before she caught herself rambling. “Sorry.” Her cheeks pinked. “I haven’t really been back since graduation and I guess I’m a little nervous about it.”

Luna just smiled. “It’s fine, Clarke. But it’s getting late, we should probably call it a night.”

“Yeah, you’re right, I’ve got an early morning myself. Luna,” she paused, “this was fun. Would you want to get together again some time?”

Luna considered her thoughtfully for a moment. “Clarke, she said slowly, “I’ve enjoyed tonight, and I’d like to get to know you further—” she hesitated, “but I think just as friends.”

“Oh. Right, ok.” _Of course she doesn’t want to go out with me, she’s smooth and collected, and I’m…chaos._

Luna saw Clarke’s face drop, and she reached across the table and took her hand. “No, Clarke, I’m serious, Zoe was right—you’re gorgeous and sweet, and I do like you—even if you stoop to eating ethically-raised meat,” she snickered, and Clarke laughed ruefully. “It’s just…there’s someone else, isn’t there?” she said quietly.

Clarke gave her a puzzled look and frowned. “No—I’m not seeing anyone, what makes you say that?”

Luna sighed and gave Clarke’s hand a tiny squeeze before letting it go. “You didn’t see your face when you were telling me about your college friends, especially—Lexa? Your eyes _lit up_ , and you got this smile on your face when you talked about her, a smile I haven’t seen all night, and certainly not one that’s been directed at me. If someone looked at me like that, I can tell you I wouldn’t forget it.”

Clarke colored and sat back in her chair. She closed her eyes for a long moment and composed herself. Her eyes held a faint gleam of tears when she reopened them and looked at Luna. “You’re right,” she whispered. “I’m sorry. I guess there _is_ someone else.” 

_I think there always has been._

*****September 1997*****

“That’s it, Clarke, right there!” Lexa panted, sweat beading on her forehead.

Clarke gave a final thrust, putting her hips into it, and the loveseat shifted one last foot into the back of the Fire-Tipped Dart. She slumped and stepped back in relief, wiping sweat from the back of her neck. One of Lexa’s acquaintances had offered them a free loveseat he was getting rid of. They’d measured their dorm room space and were reasonably sure they had room, but fitting the orange-flowered eyesore in Lexa’s hatchback was another matter entirely. Clarke eyed the car critically. One end of the small sofa still hung out the back, and the rear end of the car sagged heavily, but they’d managed it. Lexa secured the rear hatch to the bumper with a strand of star garland—why she had errant star garland kicking around the car, Clarke had never ascertained—and they squeezed into the front and made the short trek back to their dorm with their cargo. 

Twenty minutes of sweating, cursing, and sore muscles later, they’d manhandled the chair out of the car and up the winding flight of stairs into their room. Clarke raided the minifridge for a couple of bottles of beer: J.W. Dundee’s Honey Brown Ale this week. She popped the caps, passed one to Lexa, and collapsed onto the loveseat beside her. Lexa clinked their bottles together. “Cheers.” Clarke took a long pull from her bottle and sighed with contentment. _It’s going to be a good year._

The fall semester passed in a blur. Clarke and Lexa were both busier than they’d ever been. When Lexa wasn’t in class or at work, she fretted over law school applications and LSAT prep, or holed up in the Special Collections department to sift through research for her senior thesis. Clarke, for her part, spent a lot of time in the lab working on her own senior project, on top of the hours she spent working at the hospital. She spent several weekends away from campus altogether, interviewing for medical school slots. If she did find a spare minute, she sometimes went to the art studio or sat outside with her sketchpad, but those moments had become increasingly rare. At times, it seemed like the two roommates barely saw each other except in passing—on their way out in the morning, falling into bed in the wee hours of the morning, the occasional squeezed-in meal at the dining hall. Winter break came as a welcome respite.

Spring semester was an almost literal breath of fresh air. All the applications were done, summer plans essentially settled, courseload for their last semester deliberately light, and Clarke and Lexa finally had time to relax and enjoy themselves. For lack of better entertainment, they ventured to the delis nearly every weekend. They also reinstated their beginning of the year “beer of the week” plan, an initiative intended to expand their liquid knowledge, although Lexa still had to do the buying. _“How are you *still* not 21, Clarke?” “Shut up, you know why. Do you want the Labatt’s Blue or the Rolling Rock?”_

For the most part, things were good. And yet, there were times that Clarke really hadn’t thought through the reality of living with Lexa. She’d tried to block out the episode months earlier at the gay bar. Lexa had never brought it up; Clarke assumed it was just a drunken impulse she regretted, or that she’d been so drunk she didn’t even remember trying to kiss Clarke. Clarke hadn’t forgotten. 

*****January 1998*****

Clarke lugged her portfolio folder up the stairs to her room. It had been an unusually warm afternoon, so she’d seized the opportunity to do some sketching in the historic district. She yawned and contemplated the possibility of a book and a nap on the loveseat. She turned the doorknob—they rarely bothered to lock the door any more—and stopped dead in her tracks, suddenly wide awake. She sucked in an audible breath. Lexa lay on her back in front of her closet door, both feet elevated against it, wearing nothing but a skimpy pair of running shorts and a black sports bra. Her shorts rode up with each movement to reveal an expanse of smooth, taut thighs. She had her hands clasped behind her head. Her eyes were closed and there was a tiny furrow on her forehead as she concentrated on a set of alternating crunches. 

Clarke’s pulse thudded faster. A pool of warmth swirled in her belly and her skin prickled all over. She drank in the bow and twist of Lexa’s obliques with each rep, the rasp of Lexa’s labored breathing, the faint curve of her flexed biceps, _tasting that fine sheen of sweat gathering in the hollow of her collarbone and sliding my tongue down over those stiff little nipples poking through her sports bra…._ Clarke’s own nipples tightened at the wayward thought. She forced her feet to move forward into the room. _Stop staring! She’s your roommate—your best friend, for fuck’s sake! Stop looking!_

She didn’t want to stop looking. 

“Hi, Clarke!” Lexa took a breather when she finally heard Clarke come in. She flopped back on her hands, arms still bent behind her head and legs splayed wide. 

Clarke made a strangled noise and choked out, “Hi, Lexa.” She made herself physically turn her back on Lexa in order to set her portfolio down next to her desk.

Lexa pushed up on one elbow and leaned back to look at Clarke. “Everything ok? You sound a little flustered.”

 _Flustered? With you sprawled out half-naked on our floor looking like sex on wheels? No, why would I be flustered?_ Clarke really hoped she hadn’t said that out loud. “Uh, no, just a long walk and then climbing the stairs….”

Lexa tsked at her and turned over to continue her workout with a set of pushups. “I keep telling you…you should…exercise more…build up…endurance,” she puffed in between reps.

 _Endurance, my ass. I can think of some exercise I wouldn’t mind….Sweet Jesus, I can’t stay in this room if she’s going to keep doing *that*._ “You know, uh, I haven’t checked my mail in a few days, I should really go do that,” Clarke blurted in a rush. “Will you be around later? Want to see if O and Raven want to get dinner?”

Lexa finished her pushups and rolled to sit with her arms on her knees. She shook her head, “I can’t tonight. I’m going to finish up my workout and get a shower—” _Oh God, don’t think about her head tilted back under the spray and those fingers combing through her long, wet hair and the water sluicing over her breasts and down…._

“Clarke, are you sure you’re ok?” 

Clarke jumped. “Unh! Yeah, yes, of course! Why do you ask?” 

Lexa looked at her curiously. “You just got this weird look on your face and you got really quiet.”

“Oh! I just remembered…some labwork I didn’t finish. Anyway, what did you say about dinner?” 

“I can’t tonight, I told Tris I’d meet her for coffee in a little while and we might go get something.”

“Oh, ok.” _Wait, Tris? Who the hell is Tris?_ “Who’s Tris?” Clarke tried to keep her tone light and casual through her almost-clenched teeth. Lexa didn’t seem to notice. 

“She comes to the meet-up at St. Mark’s sometimes. I think she’s a sophomore. She asked if I wanted to hang out sometime. She’s nice, and she’s kind of cute, so….” Lexa shrugged. “I figured, why not?” 

“Right. Well, I’m gonna see what Raven and Octavia are up to, so I’ll see you later. Have fun with…Tris,” Clarke said with a brittle chipperness. She walked downstairs wishing the heavy lump in her chest would go away. She didn’t bother looking for her friends. Instead, she spent the next several hours roaming aimlessly around the darkened campus, trying to push images of Lexa and some other girl from her mind. 

*****two weeks later*****

Clarke gritted her teeth. She really wanted to kill her roommate. She had a stack of lab data to sift through and enter into her database so that she could run the statistical analysis for the paper that was due tomorrow, but all she could concentrate on was the low murmurs on the other side of the room. Lexa and Tris were cuddled together on Lexa’s bed, ostensibly “studying,” but from where Clarke was sitting, there seemed to be more whispering and soft touching than actual studying. Not that Clarke was looking. She wasn’t. Really, she wasn’t. 

She suppressed a groan of frustration. Somehow she’d never foreseen _this_ being an issue with living with Lexa. (It didn’t occur to her to consider _why_ she’d never thought _this_ might come up with Lexa.) She really only had two options. _I should leave. But I’d have to pack up all my notes, drag my shit to a computer lab, *hope* that one of the machines with this program is available...and then I’ll end up staying up all night in the lab._ Ugh. Option one sucked. 

She propped an elbow on her desk and rested her forehead on her hand, carefully using her hand to screen the other corner of the room. _I should ask them to go somewhere else. I was here first. I’ve got actual work to do, and they’re just goofing off. Doesn’t Tris have a room?_ She scrubbed her hand over her eyes and felt a little guilty. _But Lexa’s never really been in a relationship before, I don’t want to make her feel bad. Or run Tris off._

 _*Don’t you?*_ She firmly dismissed the wicked, nagging thought. _But it *is* the fourth time in the last two weeks…._

Option two sort of sucked, too. A wash of quiet giggling decided it for her. Clarke felt a swell of energy surge through her. She desperately wanted to punch something. _If I stay in this room I’m going to lose my shit._ She bounced to her feet abruptly and began shoving notebooks into her backpack. Her sudden noise and movement startled the pair on the bed. “Clarke?” Lexa asked uncertainly. “Everything ok? We can leave if we’re bothering you.”

“No, no, you’re fine,” Clarke lied. “I’m just…falling asleep in here, need a change of scenery. I’m going to go find some coffee and finish this up in the lab. I’ll see you in the morning.” She gathered her gear as quickly as she could and practically ran from the room and out of the building. _Shit. I really didn’t think this through._

*****February 1998*****

Lexa really hadn’t thought through the reality of living with Clarke. Clarke was her best friend. Clarke was attractive, and funny, and sweet, and _everything_ , and her _best friend_. And that was all she could be, Lexa knew that now. She couldn’t forget that night at the bar, leaning in to kiss her— _finally_ kiss her—and Clarke had pushed her away. The details were foggy, but it was clear that Clarke didn’t want her _like that_. Clarke hadn’t even brought it up, so clearly it was beneath mention. So. Best friends. Lexa could live with that. Or at least she thought she could.

Lexa walked into the room and dropped her backpack by her desk. She didn’t mind that her 9am American Lit class had been canceled—she loathed Hemingway and missing that discussion didn’t upset her in the slightest—but she wished the professor could have sent out an email last night instead of making them all trek across campus in the morning to find out. She could have used the extra sleep. She filled the coffeepot with water and started a fresh pot, then sat down at her desk and began to reorganize her day.

Just then, the door swung open and Clarke padded in. Her shower shoes squeaked in the entranceway. Lexa glanced over at the sound…and froze. Her jaw dropped and she was glad she was already sitting down. Clarke. In a towel. Small towel. 

Clarke still hadn’t seen Lexa. She sashayed into the room carrying her shower caddy, eyes shut and swinging her hips to the beat of the song she was humming under her breath. _Is she singing “Mmm Bop?”_ When she bent over to put the caddy down, her calves flexed and her towel inched up her thighs almost to the point of obscenity. Water still dripped down the ends of her hair and beaded on the soft skin of her upper arms. Lexa watched with bated breath as a drop dribbled over her collarbone and down the swell of her chest, past the loose knot of the towel _into the deep valley between her breasts where I’d love to skim my tongue._ Clarke reached for the knot to drop her towel and Lexa suddenly realized she was about to be _naked, all that creamy flesh begging for my touch…Oh shit!_

She quickly cleared her throat. “Morning, Clarke.”

“ _Jesus_ , Lexa!” Clarke recoiled in shock and clutched at the towel she’d just been about to shed. “You scared the shit out of me!” 

Lexa smiled weakly and waved her hand. _Idiot! Why would you wave at her?_

“What are you doing back? Don’t you have class?”

“Um, no, it got canceled.” _Fuck, Lexa, don’t watch her change!_ She got up and turned her back on Clarke to pour a cup of coffee. The mental distraction was too much, though, and she slopped scalding coffee on her hand. “ _Motherfucker!!_ ” The coffee mug shattered on the floor sending coffee everywhere. Lexa brought her hand to her mouth and sucked on the painful burn. “Shit!”

“Lex, are you ok? Let me see!” Clarke bounded to her side, still in her towel, and took her hand to inspect the injury. The heat of Clarke’s touch seared more fiercely than the burn. Lexa caught Clarke’s concerned frown, but she couldn’t stop her gaze from dipping lower, to her cleavage and that damn towel. _Just one little tug…it would look like an accident…._ She groaned internally. 

Clarke mistook the look on Lexa’s face for pain. “It’s not too bad,” she assured her. 

“No, I’m, uh…I’m going to go get some ice from the freezer in the kitchen,” Lexa stuttered. _Please put some clothes on while I’m gone. Or don’t. You could just stay naked, and I could…oh fucking hell._ She darted for the door before the mental images consumed her. 

She stood in front of the open freezer door for a good five minutes, letting the brisk air cool her heated skin, burn forgotten.

*****one week later*****

Lexa staggered into her building and up the stairs. It had been an exceptionally long day. She’d had an early seminar that ran for two hours, followed by a few hours spent drafting chapter two of her thesis. Then it was off to work for the rest of the afternoon, but there weren’t a lot of tourists in the off-season and the time dragged. She’d grabbed a quick dinner with Tris and then headed to the computer lab to crank out a turgid response paper on the English Civil War and cram for tomorrow’s lit exam. It was nearly midnight, she hadn’t been home all day, and she was so looking forward to her bed. 

She thought she heard music coming from the room, but she didn’t think much of it. Sometimes Clarke liked to put on Gregorian chants when she was studying. Lexa really hoped that wasn’t the case tonight, because she craved sleep. She opened the door…and felt her stomach curdle at the noises she heard over the music. _Not Gregorian chants._

“Ohh, _Roan!_ ”

Lexa’s hand moved to the light switch with a mind of its own. She switched it off almost immediately, but that split-second image blistered her mind. Clarke, on her back on the loveseat, her arms wrapped around a shirtless guy with messy, dirty blond hair. _Who the fuck is *Roan*?_ “Oh, shit!” She closed her eyes and covered them, just to be sure. “I, oh, fuck, I didn’t know,” she flailed. “I’m just gonna go….”

Wait, Lexa!” Lexa sensed a rustle of motion on the loveseat, but she didn’t stay to find out. _Can’t. Be. Here._ She scurried out of the room and climbed the two flights of stairs to the upstairs lounge. She stretched out on an empty couch and thumped the cushion savagely. _Goddammit, Clarke._ She’d been so tired just minutes earlier, but now her mind wouldn’t stop its teleplay of Clarke, writhing in Roan’s arms. She tossed and turned for half an hour before she finally drifted into a fitful doze.

She couldn’t have been asleep for long when she felt a warm hand on her arm gently shaking her awake. She whimpered in protest.

“ _Lexa_. Lex, come on, you don’t want to sleep here,” Clarke’s soft voice coaxed her awake. _Oh, thank God, it was just a dream._ “I’ve been looking all over for you. Roan’s…” Clarke looked away from Lexa with what might have been shame in her eyes. “I got rid of Roan. I’m sorry. Please, come to bed.” Lexa wiped the sleep from her eyes and straggled downstairs to their room in Clarke’s wake. 

_I wish it had been a dream._

*****March 1998*****

Clarke was ready to scream. She had a Bio midterm in the morning, and Lexa was getting on her last fucking nerve. She was just _sitting there_ at her desk, studying, her glasses adorably perched on her head, impervious to Clarke’s irritation. Clarke finally cracked. “Lexa, can we please turn off Sarah McLachlan?” 

“What’s wrong with Sarah McLachan?” Lexa asked, puzzled.

“Nothing, but… _god_ , it seems like it’s been on _forever_. If I hear ‘Building a Mystery’ one more time, I may lose it,” Clarke complained.

Lexa shot her a patronizing look. “Clarke, Sarah McLachlan is a feminist icon. Why, Tris and I were just talking the other day—”

“Well, then you and Tris should buy tickets to fucking Lilith Fair, but I can’t listen to any more of this tonight!” Clarke snapped. She got up and shut off the stereo. 

“What the hell, Clarke!” Lexa jumped to her feet and confronted Clarke. “What is your _problem_ tonight?”

Clarke clawed her fingers through her hair. _My *problem* right now is *you.* And I can’t do anything about it._ “My problem?” she huffed. “Just because it’s feminist doesn’t make it _good!_ ”

Lexa bristled and stepped closer. “Oh, so you’re a cultural savant, Clarke?” She sniffed.

“Goddammit, Lexa, it’s not even about that!” Clarke shouted. She felt the blood rushing to her face.

“Yeah? So what the hell is it about then?” Lexa snapped.

“You…you…you leave dirty coffee cups in the sink _all the time!_ ” 

“What?” Lexa said in disbelief. “Just until I get around to washing them!”

“For _days_ , Lexa! It’s how we get ants!” 

“Oh yeah, well you broke the microwave plate!” Lexa spat back, her own face flushing with anger.

“I told you, that was an _accident!_ ”

“You can’t use the microwave as an _alarm clock_ , Clarke!” Lexa scoffed.

Clarke inched toward Lexa. “Well, if I hadn’t been so goddamn sleep deprived, I probably wouldn’t have!” she snarled.

“Whose fault is that, Clarke?”

 _Is she even fucking serious right now?_ Clarke’s last reserve of self-control snapped. Her cheeks blotched with red and her eyes flashed dangerously. “Maybe if I didn’t keep getting chased out of my room by you and _Tris_ I could get some sleep!”

 _What??_ Lexa’s own fury rose. Her skin buzzed with electricity and she felt her hair flaring wildly around her shoulders, but she didn’t care. “What the fuck does _Tris_ have to do with anything?” 

Clarke laughed sarcastically. “Oh, nothing, she’s just here _all the goddamn time!!_ ”

“Yeah, well, you don’t have a fucking leg to stand on, at least you’ve never walked in on me _fucking_ her!”

Clarke and Lexa stood nearly toe-to-toe now, eyes blazing, Lexa with her hands on her hips, and Clarke gesticulating wildly. 

“What the _fuck_ , Lexa?!”

“ _Roan_ , Clarke! I can’t even fucking look at the loveseat now!”

Clarke clenched her fists. “Not that it’s _any_ of your business, but I didn’t _fuck_ Roan! I threw him out!” 

_Good! Wait, what?_ Lexa’s brain was too fogged to think of a cutting rejoinder. She just stood there, inches from Clarke, chest heaving and face aflame with emotion. The tension crackled between them, neither willing to back down, but both afraid to move.

Clarke’s eyes dropped to Lexa’s lips, set in a hard line. _God, I could just fucking kiss her right now._

 _*Why don’t you?*_ mocked the annoying voice in her head.

Clarke threw up her hands and physically took a step back. She fumbled on her desk for her wallet and pushed past Lexa to the door. “I’m out of here,” she mumbled, yanking the door closed behind her with a slam. 

Lexa slouched back against her desk and let her heart rate ease. _What the fuck just happened?_

*********

Clarke banged on Octavia and Raven’s door. “It’s me!”

“Oh…just a second!” Octavia called back.

Clarke scowled and started to huff away. She did _not_ need to deal with evidence of Octavia and Lincoln right now.

Octavia threw the door open before she made it three steps. She was toweling off her hair. She waved her arm for Clarke to come in. “Hey, what’s up, Clarke?”

Clarke stormed in. “Do you have any whiskey?”

Octavia raised an eyebrow. “Yeah, on the shelf. Help yourself,” she said, as Clarke poured herself a double and threw it back. “What the hell, Clarke?”

“Yeah, I’ve already heard that tonight,” Clarke snarked bitterly. She started to pour herself another shot, but Octavia closed her fist over the shotglass and tugged the bottle from Clarke’s unresisting hand. She set them both back on the shelf, then gripped Clarke by the shoulders with both hands. 

"Clarke, what’s going on?” Clarke shook her head and tried to avoid Octavia’s sharp gaze, but Octavia was having none of it. She tipped Clarke’s chin with her forefinger and forced her to look her in the eye. 

“Had a fight with Lexa,” Clarke muttered, trying to avert her eyes.

Octavia jerked her head toward the bed and pulled Clarke over to sit next to her. “Must have been a pretty big fight to leave you downing shots,” she said lightly. “What happened?”

Clarke blew out a long breath and buried her face into her hands. “I don’t even know,” she confessed. “She didn’t even _do_ anything, I just… _lost it_.”

“Ok, but what does that even mean, Clarke?” Octavia asked practically.

Clarke wrestled with the words. “It’s just…so hard to be around her right now. But yet, I want to be around her all the time!” 

“Why is it hard to be around her now?” Octavia pressed gently.

“Because…she’s with Tris,” Clarke said in a small voice. 

“Yeah. Why does that bother you, Clarke?” Octavia was unrelenting.

“It doesn’t! It shouldn’t!” Clarke threw up her hands and got up and began to pace around the room. “She deserves to find someone, to be happy!” 

“She does. But what about you? What do you want?” 

“What do you mean?” Clarke played deliberately obtuse. 

Octavia shot her a flat glare. “You know damn well what I mean. You like her.” She carefully avoided the other L-word. 

Clarke dropped back onto the bed. “Yeah,” she said sadly, leaning her head against Octavia’s shoulder. 

Octavia wrapped an arm around Clarke and pulled her into a hug. _Damn, at least she finally admitted it._ “So…you should tell her how you feel,” she encouraged. 

“I can’t,” Clarke resisted. “She’s with someone. She’s my best friend, I just…I can’t fuck that up. I can live with her not being with me, but if I tell her I’ll just screw everything up. I can’t lose her as my friend,” she said in a panic. “And everything’s happening so _fast_ —I’ll be at Emory next year, and I know she’ll get into law school…the semester’s going to be over in a few months and then everything’s going to change. I don’t even know when I’ll see her again once we graduate.” _How am I supposed to just move on without her? Live without her?_ Clarke felt herself starting to tear up. _Fuck, I do not want to have a meltdown tonight._ She swiped at her eyes and tamped the emotions back down. “And she doesn’t see me like that, she was just drunk.” She explained the incident at the gay bar.

Octavia closed her eyes and shook her head. “For a smart woman, sometimes you are fucking dumb, Griffin.”

*********

“Woods, you’d better have a damn good reason for calling me after midnight,” Anya growled, the sleep apparent in her voice.

“Yeah…I just had a big fight with Clarke,” Lexa said in a shaky voice.

“Mmph. You finally tell her how you feel?” Anya said with a yawn.

“What?! No! I—I don’t even know what happened, she just started yelling about dishes and music and…and… _Tris_ ….” Lexa swallowed. 

“Ok, first of all, who’s _Tris_?”

She’s just this girl I’ve been seeing.”

“Oh?” Anya’s interest perked up. “You have a girlfriend?”

“No,” Lexa dismissed the idea. “It’s not, you know, serious.” 

“Huh. Why do you think Clarke might get upset about your not-girlfriend?” 

“I don’t know, Tris is perfectly nice, she’s always polite, we try to be considerate—”

“Jesus Christ, Lexa.” Lexa could hear the eyeroll. 

“I kind of made it worse by yelling at her about Roan.”

“Who the fuck is _Roan?_ ”

Lexa explained. She heard the snick of a lighter and Anya’s intake of breath. “Are you _smoking?_ ”

“Spare me your judgment until you get to law school. Besides, the two of you are enough to drive someone to drink, much less smoke. Why were you mad about Roan?”

“Well—it’s—I had an exam—”

“Yeah, I got that. But you think she’s straight, you had to expect that she might bring guys home at some point.”

“I guess. I just didn’t expect to…see it.” She flopped back on her bed and kicked her legs up against the wall.

“Well, you did, and you clearly didn’t like it. So what are you going to do about it?” Anya pushed.

“What am I supposed to do about it,” Lexa shot back with irritation.

“Tell. Her. How. You. Feel,” Anya said with exaggerated slowness. 

“She doesn’t like me…like _that_ ,” Lexa snapped. “I almost kissed her, ok?” Anya hummed her interest around another drag on her cigarette. “It was outside that bar in Richmond, and we were leaving, and I tried to kiss her and she pushed me away.” Her voice broke a little. “She pushed me _away_ , Anya.” 

Anya sighed. “Did you ever ask her about it?”

“She never even brought it up! It didn’t even register for her!” 

“Maybe, but did you _talk_ to her about it?” 

“No….”

“Don’t you think you should maybe do that?” 

“She’s my _best friend_ , Anya! I can’t fuck that up. She’s not into women, ok, fine, but I can’t do something stupid and lose her as my _friend_. I just…I _can’t_.” Lexa’s heart clenched at the thought. 

“Lex,” Anya said quietly. “I don’t know if she’s into women, but she’s into _you_. Anyone with fucking eyes can see that. You should talk to her.”

Lexa muttered something inaudible.

“Goddammit, Lexa.”

*********

Lexa didn’t see Clarke until she got back from class the following afternoon. She walked into their room to find Clarke sitting at her desk, staring blankly out the window into space. 

“Hi, Clarke,” Lexa said cautiously. She put her books down on the bed and slipped her jacket off.

“Lexa…hi.” Clarke got up and approached her awkwardly. They stood before each other, eyes avoiding, silently hemming and hawing. The dam finally broke, and the words poured out in a rush. 

“I’m not mad about Tris.” “I didn’t mean what I said about Roan.” _I love you._

Clarke smiled then, a genuine smile, and she drew Lexa into a hug. Lexa clung to her tightly and savored the soft warmth of her embrace, the subtle fragrance of her hair and skin that was so ineffably Clarke. “I hate fighting with you,” Lexa whispered. There was so much more she wanted to say, but she couldn’t form the words lodged in her throat.

Clarke pulled back with a laugh that sounded more like a sob. She chased a tear from her cheek and said, “ I hate fighting with you, too.”

Lexa pulled an envelope out of her jacket pocket and turned back to Clarke, holding it up. “I just checked my mail and I’ve got some news,” she said shyly, although her eyes glowed with a struggle to contain her excitement. “ _I got in!_ Georgetown Law!”

“Lexa! That’s awesome! I’m so proud of you!” Clarke squeezed Lexa in another hug of celebration rather than reconciliation and danced around the room with her in excitement. She ignored the little voice in her heart that screamed _*Tell her how you feel!*_ Instead she resigned herself to the voice in her head. 

_It’s too late for that, you’ll have to figure out how to live without her._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So. Damn. Stubborn.
> 
> So. Damn. Clueless.
> 
> Also, don't ever try to use an empty microwave as an alarm clock. It is not a thing.
> 
> Oh, and raise your hand if you went to Lilith Fair. Anyone?


	10. Temptation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> *Title refers to New Order

*****June 2018*****

Anya pulled up in front of the dormitory and double-parked with the car still running. “You guys go ahead and check in, I’ll go find a parking spot and meet you back here. Hopefully it’ll be close and I won’t have to hike all the way back from the Hall lot.” 

Lexa and Raven climbed out of the car and hefted their bags out of the trunk. “Want me to get Anya’s?” Lexa offered. 

Once upon a time, Raven might have bristled and rejected such an offer of assistance, probably with a biting, possibly profane, rejoinder. Now, though, the passage of time had muted some of those gut-level instincts to prove her physical capability. She knew she had nothing to prove to anyone else, and she knew Lexa well enough to know that she hadn’t meant to imply otherwise. “Sure, be my guest.”

Lexa hoisted her duffle bag in one hand and Anya’s suitcase in the other. Raven slammed the trunk shut after her. Anya drove off and the two women lugged their gear toward the front of the building. “Just like move-in day all over again,” Lexa said. 

“Not as hot, though. God, I hope they’ve put in air conditioning in the last twenty years, or else the next few days are gonna suck.”

They walked under a bright green-and-gold banner that gaily proclaimed, “Welcome Home, Arkadia Class of 1998!” into the building and up a half-flight of stairs to the foyer. A bored-looking undergrad sat at a table covered with welcome packets and a variety of pamphlets about University offerings and local attractions. “Welcome-back-to-Arkadia,” she droned. 

Raven and Lexa shared an amused eyeroll. _Millennials._ “Yeah, checking in. Woods. Lexa Woods.” The check-in aide consulted her clipboard, checked off Lexa’s name, and handed her a key and a welcome packet. 

“Third floor, room number—”

“Yeah, I know the room number, thanks,” Lexa cut her off drily. She waited for Raven to collect her own packet and they turned toward the stairs. “It’s kind of hokey that they’re housing us in our old freshman rooms. I mean, what if you hated your freshman roommate?” 

Raven shrugged. “I guess you could request an alternative. I think it’s kind of cool. It’ll be fun to hang with Octavia again, for old times’ sake. Although,” she grinned and her eyes gleamed, “I doubt we stay in those rooms the whole weekend. Anya’s got a single, and I’m sure O—and Lincoln—won’t mind if I switch.” 

Lexa shook her head with a laugh. “Whatever. Just keep it down, I’m right across the hall. I’d prefer not to experience any more jacuzzi incidents.”

Raven colored slightly. “I _told_ you, we had no idea the bathroom adjoined your room! Or that the walls were so thin—”

Lexa held up her hands. “Let’s not relive it!”

Raven ducked her head. “Speak for yourself,” she mumbled under her breath. 

They reached the top of the stairs and turned down the hall to their rooms. A few doors were open and some people were already milling around. Lexa handed Anya’s suitcase off to Raven and then unlocked her own door. She shouldered it open and dropped her bag on what used to be her own bed. She stood for a moment just absorbing the space. It seemed…small…and with nothing decorating the walls or the desks, rather sterile, but Lexa’s imagination filled in some of the empty space with posters, books, and accumulated treasured junk. She smiled wistfully. She collected her thoughts after a moment and opened her duffle bag. The downside to staying in the dorm again was that they had to provide their own linens for the weekend (and who still had extra-long twin sheets kicking around?). She pulled out a set of too-big sheets and made up her bed, shoving the extra fitted sheet fabric under the mattress. She was just tugging the case onto her pillow when she heard footsteps in the room behind her. 

She turned to see a petite, middle-aged Asian woman with long, shiny dark hair walking in cautiously. “Lexa?”

“Oh my God, Julia!” Lexa’s jaw dropped. She’d had no expectation that her freshman roommate would even show. They hadn’t been especially close as freshmen and hadn’t kept in touch afterward. They moved together and hugged tentatively. 

“How _are_ you?” “You look _great!_ ” “It’s so good to see you!” and other platitudes tripped off their lips. They chatted for a few moments. Lexa felt a little twinge of inadequacy at learning that Julia was a cardiologist in Arizona, but she shunted the feeling aside. _It’ll be a long weekend if I don’t get over feeling like that._ Just as the conversation was about to turn awkward, Raven knocked on the door.

“Lexa—Julia, hi!” Lexa hid a smile as Julia and Raven progressed through the same small talk. “Hey, I hate to run, but the campus tours are about to start. Lexa, Anya texted and said she’d meet us over there. You ready?” 

Lexa assented and they tramped downstairs. A few people from the lower floors walked along with them, and a small throng of people had already gathered outside the admissions building. They spotted Anya and waved, but before they reached her, Raven stopped short next to a trim Asian man sporting a goatee and hipster specs. “ _Monty?!_ Hey!”

Monty grinned broadly and embraced Raven. “Raven! And Lexa! Wow, you two look amazing! What are you doing these days?” Raven launched into a technical description of her work, and between the two of them, the only words Lexa followed were _robots_ and _Cal Tech_. She clapped Monty on the shoulder with a smile and moved over to join Anya. She casually scanned the crowd, feeling her heart catch every time she caught a glimpse of blonde hair. Anya watched her with a little smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth. 

“She’ll be here, Lexa.”

Lexa jumped. “Who?! What do you mean?”

Anya’s smirk spread. “Oh, quit pretending you’re not looking for Clarke. You’re completely obvious.”

Lexa felt her face heat. “Am not,” she mumbled sheepishly. _Dammit, how does she *do* that?_

Several admissions tour guides came out and began wrangling them into smaller groups, sparing Lexa from further needling. She, Anya, Raven, Monty, and a dozen or so other alums meandered with their guide up the quad to the Old Main building, the oldest building on campus and part of Arkadia’s historic district. The guide prattled on about the building’s history, but Lexa tuned him out. She’d forgotten more about the building than he’d ever know. _Picking up the heavy antique keys from campus police on cool, crisp fall mornings…the thunk of the massive tumblers turning just for me…the rooms quiet and still before the tourists and students arrived…the comfortable solitude in the grammar school room, surrounded by the weight of history, imagining just for a moment the scratch of quills on paper, the whiff of spilled ink, and the restless whispers of ghostly boys who would go on to build a nation…._

Their guide led them past the academic buildings that ringed the quad, describing the renovations and upgrades that had taken place in the past twenty years. Lexa’s mind wandered as they passed under the breezeway that connected her sophomore dorm to another and past where the old Chem building had stood. 

*****October 1995*****

The picture on the lounge TV fuzzed and rolled as Lexa walked in and plopped down on the sofa. “Did they announce it yet?”

Clarke shook her head no. Her books were spread out on the table before her, ignored in favor of the drama playing out on the small screen. They watched with rapt attention as the tension built to the denouement. Clarke sat back in her seat in shock and Lexa mouthed, “Wow,” and looked over at Clarke. “ _Holy shit_.”

“Man, Ontari and Raven are gonna be pissed that they missed the verdict. Ontari wouldn’t shut up about it at lunch,” Lexa remarked. She glanced over at Clarke and did a double-take. Clarke’s eyes gleamed mischievously and she feverishly ripped sheets of paper out of a notebook. 

“Berightback,” she slurred, darting out of the lounge, only to return a few minutes later with scotch tape and magic markers.

“Clarke,” Lexa said cautiously. “What are you doing?”

“It’s an historic moment, Lexa, you know that better than I do, they’d want to be informed,” Clarke flashed her a grin as she taped sheets of paper together. Lexa tried to ignore the brightness in her eyes and the way her tongue poked out of the corner of her mouth as she meticulously drew letters on the pages. “They’ve got Chem in that big lecture hall in Rogers, right?”

“What?” Lexa refocused. “Oh! Yeah, I think so. Clarke,” she said warningly, “Seriously, what are you doing?”

“You’ll see,” Clarke winked. _Jesus Christ, she just *winked* at me._ “Coming?” 

“Uh, yeah, ok,” Lexa said, perplexed. She followed Clarke downstairs and past the intramural field across the street. _What the hell is she doing?_

Clarke approached the Chemistry building. “Oh, perfect, the exit door’s open! She loitered outside the building, craning her neck to locate Raven and Ontari in the classroom, lecture in progress. “There they are! She waved her arm to get their attention, then held up the taped-together sign she’d improvised.

ACQUIT

Raven nudged Ontari. A rumble of not-so-quiet whispers swept through the lecture hall. Ontari frowned furiously and shot daggers at Clarke with her eyes. The professor stepped toward the door to determine the cause of the commotion. At that, Clarke balled up the sign and took off, tugging Lexa after her by the hand, cackling all the way. 

“Oh my God, Clarke, Ontari is going to kill you!” 

Clarke stopped to catch her breath, still laughing. “Maybe, but it was worth it.” She looked over at Lexa, vivid blue eyes dancing, pink from exertion across her cheeks and down over her collarbones, alight with life. 

_Yeah, it was worth it._

*****June 2018*****

“Harper?” Clarke edged through the open door nervously. Her nerves eased on seeing the smile on the face of the dark blonde-haired woman in the room. It was all well and good to be friends on facebook, but she and Harper hadn’t actually spoken in over twenty years. 

“Clarke! Wow, you look great!” Clarke smiled a little self-consciously and dumped her bag on the bed opposite to Harper’s. She looked around the room. 

“Looks a lot different without green shag carpet and a loft bed, huh?” 

Harper laughed. “I was just thinking the same thing.” She sat on the edge of her bed. “How are you? How was the drive?”

“Not bad,” Clarke answered. They made small talk for a while, and Clarke realized that Harper was just as nervous to see her as she was to see Harper. Somehow this was comforting, and she relaxed and their conversation grew more animated. “This is so weird. I feel like I know you better now after _not_ talking for twenty years than I did when we were roommates,” she remarked ruefully.

Harper’s smile answered hers. “I know. I get a kick out of your posts on facebook. It makes me wish I’d tried to know you better back then.” She held up a hand to silence Clarke’s interruption. “I know what you said in your message, but I was eighteen and awkward myself. We both could’ve been better roommates, it wasn’t just you. But hey—we get to try again this weekend.”

Clarke nodded. “Yeah, I’d like that.” She glanced at her phone. “Hey, I’m meeting Octavia and Lincoln for the tour in a few minutes, you want to come?”

Harper shook her head. “Thanks, but Fox and Laura and Mel should be here any time and I said I’d go with them. But I’ll see you at the wine and cheese later?”

Clarke snorted. “Like I’d pass up wine and cheese.” They laughed. “Yeah, I’ll see you later on, then.” She took a few moments to make up her bed before heading over to the admissions building. She hadn’t seen Octavia or Lincoln in the dorm, but they’d planned to drive down early so Lincoln could have lunch with some of his frat brothers. Sure enough, they were already out front in the crowd. Clarke waved at them in greeting and hurried over, pretending that she didn’t have an eye out for a flash of green eyes or a tangle of sleek brown curls. 

Octavia’s eyes lit up on seeing Clarke, and she rushed over to greet her with a squeal. “Clarke!” The two women hugged tightly and then stepped back to get a good look at each other. Even though they texted regularly and stayed close on social media, they hadn’t actually seen each other in person in years, since before Octavia had her second child. Octavia still had a bright smile and a fit physique—clearly she’d dropped the baby weight—and the few streaks of silver in her dark hair suited her. “Damn, girl! I _told_ you we were still smoking hot!” 

Lincoln’s appreciative grin offered confirmation, and Clarke laughed. “I never doubted _you_ , O. Have you seen anyone else yet?” _Lexa, perhaps?_

“A few of Lincoln’s friends. Oh, and we bumped into Atom on the way out of the dorm.” She leaned closer and confided in a whisper, “He’s _bald_ , Clarke. I _knew_ it.” They giggled for a moment before Clarke made herself stop.

“We shouldn’t laugh. Bald can still be sexy.”

Octavia hummed in agreement and wove her arm through her husband’s. “No argument there. Lincoln’s the sexiest man I know.” She tugged his arm and pulled his cheek down for a kiss.

Clarke rolled her eyes. “How are you guys still this gross after more than twenty years?”

Octavia stuck her tongue out. “Shut it, Clarke, we are kid-free for the first time in _forever_ , and I, for one, am going to enjoy it and be as gross as I want.”

“Within reason,” Lincoln hastened to add, giving Octavia a firm look. Octavia just smirked. 

“What about Anya and Raven? I thought they were getting in this afternoon.”

“And Lexa?” Octavia asked slyly, giving Clarke a sidelong glance. She didn’t miss the spots of color that flared on Clarke’s cheeks. She relented. “They are, but I don’t know when. Rae just said she’d probably see me in the room before the reception. And holy shit, can you believe her and _Anya?_ ” she gossiped excitedly. “I never would have pictured them together. How did that even _happen?_ ”

Clarke raised her hands in a shrug. “Got me. I had no idea until Raven said they were coming to the reunion together.”

Octavia eyed her skeptically. “You all live in the same town! How could you not know this was happening under your nose?”

Clarke shot her a look in reply. “I didn’t even know Anya was in D.C. And it’s not like I see Raven all the time. Bethesda isn’t that far from Arlington, but it takes an hour on the metro—we might see each other once every couple months, if that. I’ve been so busy with work lately that I haven’t really checked in with her for a while. Anyway, you know how secretive she can be when she wants to. Still,” she said thoughtfully, “I don’t think it’s that surprising, really—neither of them puts up with bullshit, and they both like a challenge. I’m honestly surprised they never got together before now.” She frowned at a vague memory, a tickle that she couldn’t quite place, but shook her head when the thread evaporated. 

Octavia cocked her head to the side, considering. “I guess I can see that. I meant the whole commitment thing. Raven’s always been kind of skittish about commitment, not wanting to be tied down, the whole bit. I don’t know Anya that well, but she always struck me as kind of similar. So for the two of them to get together—and Raven sounded serious on the phone—I just wouldn’t have expected it from them.” She grinned wickedly. “But I am so giving them all kinds of shit.”

“Totally.” 

They quieted as the tour guides came out and organized them into groups and herded them across campus. Lincoln whistled as they passed the modernized football stadium. “Wish that had been here when we were here,” he muttered. 

“Yeah, no kidding,” Octavia added. “Bet they even play night games now. Hey Clarke,” she snickered and poked Clarke on the arm. “Remember that time we snuck vodka into the game mixed with Snapple?”

Clarke groaned and tilted her head back. “Oh, God, don’t remind me. Worst idea ever.”

Octavia laughed harder. She saw the puzzled look on Lincoln’s face. “Oh, right, you weren’t there for that. We thought it would be a great idea to drink half the bottle of Snapple and fill the rest with vodka and bring it into the game—”

“Because we were stupid,” Clarke interjected.

“—and the other team we were playing—was it Delaware?”

“The Fighting Blue Hens,” Clarke said succinctly.

“Yeah.” Octavia sniggered. “Clarke here got drunk, and by the fourth quarter she wouldn’t stop screaming, ‘Pluck the Hens! Pluck the Hens!’ at the top of her voice.”

Lincoln smiled. Clarke closed her eyes and shook her head. “I still don’t know how we didn’t get thrown out."

Octavia wrapped an arm around Clarke’s shoulders. “Oh, you weren’t that bad. Besides, it was a close game. The crowd was into it.” 

They followed the tour guide across campus and continued reminiscing quietly along the way. Lincoln’s face grew pained at seeing the construction site where his old fraternity house once stood. “I knew they’d torn them down, but it’s different to actually _see_ them gone,” he said mournfully. Clarke grew a little more pensive as they walked and she took in their surroundings. 

“So…Lexa?” Octavia said perceptively.

“Yeah? What about her?” Clarke chewed her lip. 

“Come on, Clarke. I know how you felt about her.” She glanced up at Lincoln, who was walking far enough ahead that he couldn’t hear their whispered conversation. “Hell, I think we all did, except maybe for Lexa. You two were so….” she shook her head. “Are you gonna be ok seeing her again after all this time? What’s it been, almost twenty years?”

Clarke avoided Octavia’s eyes. “Something like that. Summer after my first year of med school,” she lied. “It’ll be fine,” she said, as if trying to convince herself. “It was a long time ago, I’ve moved on, and she has…well, I’m sure she has her own life, too. It’ll be good to see her and catch up.”

“Did you know she lives in D.C.? I was surprised when Raven said she was coming down with them. I always assumed she’d moved across the country or something.”

“I had heard,” Clarke’s words were clipped.

Octavia looked at her strangely. “Clarke,” she hesitated, “what happened between you guys? You were so close, and then….”

“Octavia, can we just not? It’s not like there’s really anything to tell. Nothing _happened_.” Clarke said in a strained voice. She waved a hand at one of the old intramural fields where new dorms now stood. “Besides, this is all just a lot to take in.”

She looked at the new buildings, but in her mind’s eye _Lexa_ was everywhere. _Walking past the parking lot where Lexa taught me to drive the Fire-Tipped Dart…the art studio where Lexa hung out with me while I worked on my final project…the sunny corner of the quad where Lexa and I met for lunch on warm, fall days…the Old Main building where I eavesdropped on Lexa’s tours while I sat outside sketching…the breezeway rooftop where Lexa and I laid to watch the sunset over the quad…._ They rounded a corner into the front courtyard of the Old Main building and Clarke nearly stopped short. _Lexa’s tree._

It was a gnarled live oak, its trunk twisting almost horizontal at waist level before shooting toward the sky. Clarke almost couldn’t believe it had survived, so many trees in the courtyard had been damaged or destroyed in a major ice storm not long after they graduated. She walked over in a daze and rested her hand on its rough bark. _How many times did I walk past and see her perched in this tree, her back nestled against the trunk’s upward slope and her long legs kicked out along its horizonal span…ponytail tucked through her lucky Arkadia ballcap…glasses usually crooked and sliding down the bridge of her nose…sometimes immersed in a book…sometimes munching an apple…once even dozing off wrapped in her favorite flannel….God, this is going to be harder than I thought._

Clarke caught up with the tour group as they drew close to Wythe Dell. It was a small, manmade pond surrounded by a grove of trees and spanned by a decorative bridge, arguably one of the most scenic—and romantic—spots on campus. Campus tradition held that if you kissed your sweetheart in the middle of the bridge, you’d be together forever, but if you crossed it alone, you’d never marry. (And if the couple split up, the only way to break the spell was for the woman to toss her ex-lover off the bridge into the pond, something Clarke would have dearly loved to have witnessed.) Clarke had only been on the bridge once, during the ceremonial graduation procession across campus; otherwise she’d never gone within ten yards of it for fear of triggering the curse. _For all the good it did me._

Octavia nudged Lincoln and whispered in his ear. He nodded. She turned to Clarke. “I think we’re going to ditch the rest of the tour, I want to get a selfie on the bridge with Lincoln, for old times’ sake.”

Clarke nodded. “Ok. I think I’m gonna bail, too, I want to swing by Morton and see if it’s still as ugly as I remember. If I don’t see you back at the dorm, I’ll meet up with you at the wine and cheese reception this evening.”

They split off, Lincoln and Octavia walking hand-in-hand along the trail beside the Dell, and Clarke heading up the hill to New Campus. She strolled through the library courtyard, past the sundial and the Physics building, to the far edge of the academic campus. Morton housed mostly social sciences, so Clarke had actually had very few classes in it, but somehow she’d spent an inordinate amount of time studying there in the wee hours. _Lexa’s influence._ The building was universally loathed as the epitome of all that was wrong with 1960s institutional architecture (not to mention having been constructed atop a sinkhole). Clarke loved it: the quirky spaces, the broken and unsynchronized clocks, the hodgepodge of mismatched office furniture that spanned the last several decades. She smiled as she recalled taking “study breaks” at 3am and prowling the faculty office wing to read the cartoons and commentary plastered on professors’ doors. 

She walked in and trotted up a half-flight of stairs to the first floor. It still smelled the same, musty and chalky, even though the chalkboards had long since been replaced with whiteboards. She wandered down the hall, past the depressing, low-ceilinged lecture hall she’d dubbed “the batcave,” and took the stairs to the second floor. She began to walk down the hall, but her pace suddenly slowed and then stopped. The building lights were on reduced power with classes out of session and there wasn’t a lot of natural light in the hallway, but she recognized the figure standing at the end of the hall. _I’d know her anywhere. Lexa._

*********

Lexa meandered down the third floor hallway. The History department had moved to a different building her junior year, but she still felt an affinity for Morton. It was where she first came to love the discipline, where she’d really learned how to study and put arguments together, and, yes, where she’d beaten her head against walls many nights trying to pull papers together. She skipped lightly down the stairs to the second floor. The old computer lab was long gone, and she chuckled softly to herself thinking of “study breaks” to go check email or to wander down the hall to whatever room Clarke was in to goof off with her. She paused to scan the flyers on the hallway bulletin board. She heard footsteps come to a halt at the other end of the hall. She felt the fine hairs on the back of her neck prickle with the weight of the stranger’s gaze, and she turned to look.

 _Holy shit. “Clarke,”_ she breathed without conscious thought. Clarke resumed walking toward her, tentatively at first, then with purpose. Lexa stood still and drank her in, taking in the small changes since they last time they’d seen each other. Her golden hair, not quite as long as it once was, caught a gleam in the low fluorescent light. Her figure, still shapely, had lost some of its adolescent softness and settled into the firm solidity of adulthood. Her breasts— _Jesus, Lexa, you haven’t seen her in *how* long, and the first thing you can think of is her breasts? Get it together!_ Clarke drew near enough that Lexa could make out the fine lines at the corners of her mouth, the storm clouds of uncertainty in her blue eyes, the soft, rosy gloss on her lips. Lexa’s pulse ratcheted up and she licked her own lips nervously. 

“Hi, Lexa,” Clarke said softly. She stopped several feet away from her, not quite in Lexa’s personal space. They stood awkwardly for a beat, shifting from one foot to the other, until as if by unspoken signal, they surged to meet each other in a crushing hug. _Oh God, her body still feels so right in my arms…I don’t want to let her go again…._

“It’s good to see you, Clarke,” Lexa sighed at the feel of the fine silk of Clarke’s hair against her cheek. She closed her eyes and let herself sink into the hug with her whole body. _She even smells the same._ They held each other for a moment longer than friendship warranted, and they both had tears welling in their eyes when they disengaged. Lexa brushed them away and laughed awkwardly. “I should’ve known I’d run into you in Morton.”

“It’s _Morton_ , Lexa, the most hideous building on campus. Of course I had to make a pilgrimage,” Clarke grinned. “Other than the lab, I probably spent more time here than anywhere else.” _With you. And without you._

Lexa relaxed and looked around at the walls. “Yeah,” she murmured softly, “we had a lot of good times in here.”

Clarke snorted. “Yeah, and a lot of shitty ones, too. I pulled more all-nighters in that computer lab than I care to remember.”

Lexa groaned. “Ugh, don’t remind me. And I had _class_ in here, too.”

Clarke caught her eye. “Want to get out of here?”

“God, yes.” They both laughed and headed down the stairs. 

“How are things with your dad?” Clarke asked.

“He’s doing well. He finally got a good amount of mobility back, and his mental acuity’s been stable for a long time. He struggles some when he gets tired, but who doesn’t? He works at the grocery store near his assisted living complex—he really doesn’t have to, but he insists he needs to do it and wants to do his part.”

“He’s probably right, it keeps his muscles active and his brain engaged. I see a lot of patients in similar situations.”

“Clarke,” Lexa hesitated. “I’m sorry about your dad. I wanted to call—probably _should’ve_ called—but I didn’t think you wanted to hear from me, I didn’t want to make things worse—”

“Oh, you really couldn’t have made things worse,” Clarke said with an odd note in her voice. She glanced back at Lexa as they reached the bottom of the stairs, and her tone softened. “I got your card. I was glad to get it, it meant a lot.”

 _I didn’t know what else to do._ “I’m sure Finn was a big help.”

Clarke barked a laugh. “Oh, Finn was something else, all right,” she said cryptically. _That’s putting it mildly._

Lexa raised an eyebrow, but Clarke didn’t seem inclined to explain further, so she dropped it. They walked out of the building. “Are you headed back to the dorm?” Lexa asked.

“I—” _I don’t think I can walk back with you and pretend I don’t miss this. Miss you. I need…I don’t know what I need._

 _*Her. You need her.*_ mocked the annoying voice in her head. “I was actually going to walk out to the lake for a bit. But you’ll be at the reception later?” _Where there will be other people. Not just you, clouding all my thoughts. I can do this. I can._

“Yeah, I’m going to meet Anya and Raven, and maybe the others, and head over with them.”

That broke through Clarke’s fog. “So what’s the deal with the two of them? How did that even _happen?_ ” 

Lexa shrugged helplessly. “All I know is that it involved space and wine and possibly the cockpit of a 747—it _sounds_ unlikely, but I think we’ve all learned never to underestimate Raven Reyes.” Clarke shook her head in disbelief. “Anyway, I’ll see you tonight. Clarke,” she continued a little awkwardly. “I’m glad I ran into you here, and not with everybody....” she flapped her hand. “You know.”

“Yeah,” Clarke said quietly. “Me too. I’ll see you later.” She gave a quick wave and strode briskly toward the lake before she could think about it too much. She did want to see the new lakeside amphitheater, but she hadn’t really planned to visit it today. Still, maybe it was for the best. Lake Powhatan had always soothed her, especially after Wells died. The church and her faith hadn’t offered many answers then, but sitting alone on the boat dock and watching the ducks trace their ripples through the still water imbued her with a sense of peace and clarity that she hadn’t found elsewhere.

_I could use some peace and clarity right now._


	11. An Honest Mistake

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> * title refers to The Bravery

*****June 2018*****

Lexa walked back to the dorm with her thoughts in turmoil. She was kind of glad Clarke had gone on to the lake; she needed some time alone to process how she felt. She’d kept her feelings at bay for a long time, locked away and compartmentalized during her relationship with Costia, but just seeing Clarke again for a few fleeting moments threatened to upset her carefully-schooled emotional composure. _If things had just been different, our timing…but Clarke’s happy, I don’t have any right to upset that. It’s just a weekend. Maybe enough time has passed that we can just be friends._ Given her reaction to the encounter in Morton, Lexa knew that was probably a lie, but she had to tell herself something to make the butterflies go away. 

She reached Monroe Hall and clattered up the stairs to the third floor. There were more people on the floor than when she’d first arrived, and she said hello to a few vaguely familiar faces as she made her way to her room. She heard loud voices and laughter from across the hall in Raven and Octavia’s room. She poked her head in the open door. 

"Knock knock,” she said, tapping on the doorframe. 

Raven and Octavia were sitting cross-legged on their beds chattering away, but Octavia leaped up at the interruption. Her face brightened with a broad smile at seeing Lexa. “Lexa!” She bounded over and folded Lexa into a powerful hug. “Where the hell have you been?”

“Hey, O,” Lexa said quietly. Once they broke apart, she took a deep breath and said, “I’m really sorry I disappeared for so long. Things were really difficult for a while with dad and I got so wrapped up in just…surviving, I guess….”

“Well, yeah, Lexa, I want to know where you’ve been for the last twenty years or so—” Octavia said matter-of-factly, plopping back down on the bed, “But I really meant what took you so long to get back from the tour?” 

“Yeah,” Raven chimed in. “We’ve been here for like an hour—Anya even went to take a nap.”

“Oh.” Lexa sat down on the desk chair. “I just walked over to Morton to look around. Kind of lost track of time.” 

Raven rolled her eyes. “ _Morton_. What was it about that dump? Seemed like you and Clarke were there all the time.”

Lexa’s cheeks warmed. “It had its charms,” she muttered vaguely. 

Octavia checked her phone. “So, _you_ have a lot of talking to do about what you’ve been up to these last _two decades_ ,” she stated, narrowing her eyes and pointing at Lexa, “but you’ll have to tell us about it at the reception, cause we need to head over soon and I’ve still got to change and get ready.” 

“Oh, ok. I’m ready whenever you are. I’ll be in my room, just come get me.”

Raven frowned. “Are you wearing what you have on?”

Lexa looked down at her red-striped polo shirt and olive-green bermuda shorts. “Yes?” she said uncertainly.

Raven closed her eyes and muttered something that sounded like “ _Hopeless_.” She gave Lexa a pointed look. “You know Clarke will be there, right?”

Lexa stiffened. _First Anya, now Raven_. “Yeah, so? I already—” _Christ, if I tell them I already ran into Clarke, I’ll never hear the end of it._ “You know what, fine.” She threw up her hands in frustration. “I’ll put on something else.” She stomped across the hall and rummaged through her bag for something suitable, grumbling to herself. Once she’d changed, she freshened up a little and on impulse, applied some light mascara and a touch of lip gloss. She was just brushing out her hair when she heard a knock at the door and Octavia’s voice on the other side. She grabbed her purse and key and met Octavia, Lincoln, Raven, and Anya in the hall.

Octavia mouthed, “Wow,” and murmured under her breath, “Clarke is going to wet herself.”

Raven’s eyebrows shot up and she nodded approvingly at Lexa’s appearance. “That’s more like it, Woods.” 

Anya just smirked.

Lexa reddened. “Whatever,” she growled at Raven. “Are we ready?”

The five of them strolled over to the courtyard between the Old Main building and the quad. Raven linked her arm through Anya’s and continued catching up with Octavia. Lexa hung back and made quiet conversation with Lincoln. After college, Octavia took a job in Philadelphia with one of the Big Six accounting firms. Lincoln followed her and steadily built up his clientele as a personal trainer and fitness instructor, finally opening his own fitness center. “It’ll be six years in August,” he said proudly. “It was a struggle at first to get it off the ground, we’d invested so much of our savings into the facility, and that first year I was terrified that we might go under. And then Daniel came along.” He shook his head almost in disbelief. “I don’t think I slept for about two years.” Lexa laughed. Lincoln’s eyes softened as he looked at Octavia’s back. “I never could have done it without Octavia. She supported us all when I was barely bringing in anything, but more than that, she believed in me. She never let me lose faith in myself, even when I was sure I’d made a huge mistake and the whole thing was going to come crashing down. She wouldn’t hear it.”

Lexa felt a sudden hollow ache in her chest and she swallowed a lump in her throat. “Daniel—is he your youngest?”

Lincoln’s eyes shone as he pulled out his phone. He scrolled to a shot of two little boys in superhero pajamas fiercely flexing their baby muscles at the camera and showed it to Lexa. She laughed at the intensity on their faces. “Yeah. Iron Man there is Daniel, he’s four. And Morgan is Batman, he’ll be nine in September.” 

“They’re adorable, Lincoln,” Lexa said sincerely. Her smile was a little bittersweet. She was happy for Lincoln and Octavia and their family, but she couldn’t help but be reminded of missed opportunities and choices made differently. 

They finally reached the courtyard. There were probably already about a hundred people there, and a steady flow of alumni trickled in from the other dorms scattered across campus. A cover band in the corner played generic classic rock hits (and Lexa preferred not to think about how the music she’d grown up listening to was now considered “classic”). They claimed an empty stand-up bar table. Lincoln remained behind to hold the spot while the women snagged wine and hit the hors d’oeuvre table. They bumped into Fox and Harper in line and spent a few minutes chatting with them before rejoining Lincoln. 

Ontari and her husband, a fleshy, dough-faced man named Brandon, had arrived while they were gone, and another round of greeting and hugs went around the table. Like Clarke, Ontari went to medical school, but opted to pursue a research track in genetics and landed a job _at Duke_ , she proclaimed self-importantly. Lexa smothered a smile. _God, she is going to drive Clarke right up the wall_. The unbidden thought startled her, and her smile faded as she tried to push thoughts of Clarke to the back burner. 

*********

Clarke spent longer than she intended by the lake, but it had helped soothe some of her nerves, at least for the moment. By the time she got back to the dorm, everyone had already left for the reception. She threw on a red-and-black striped maxi skirt and a sleeveless, white v-neck top, resolutely telling herself that it didn’t matter that Lexa would be there, even as she took a little extra care with her make-up. She hurried to the courtyard. The last rays of early evening sun warmed the brickwork of the Old Main building, setting it alight with an almost buttery glow. Clarke spotted Lincoln and the others at a table and headed for him. Just as she approached the group, Lincoln turned aside, and Clarke nearly tripped when she saw the figure standing behind him. 

_Lexa_. She wore a simple, dark blue sleeveless sundress that clung softly through the bodice and flared slightly over her slim hips to just above her knees. The thin spaghetti straps showed off the tanned definition of her shoulders and the divot of her collarbone. Her hair, unruly as ever, cascaded over one shoulder. As Clarke watched, she threw her head back in carefree laughter and the evening’s sun’s rays glinted on sun-lightened reddish and golden streaks interspersed through the brown waves. Clarke almost forgot how to breathe. She gawked for a moment, until Raven spied her and called her name. 

“Clarke!” She threw up her hand and the rest of the group waved her over. Everyone hugged all over again. Clarke held her breath when she came to Lexa. She hadn’t missed how the blue of her dress drew out a deepening blue cast to her green eyes, and she was trying very hard not to stare. Lexa merely gave her a gentle embrace, but Clarke could feel her pulse pick up, and she wondered if Lexa could feel her own heart hammering. They missed the sharp glances and hidden smirks shared among Raven, Octavia, and Anya. 

Octavia slathered a smear of brie on a cracker and gestured at Lexa with it. “Now _you_ have some explaining to do. What the hell happened, and where the hell have you been these last twenty years?” She took a bite of cheese and cracker and looked at Lexa expectantly. All the eyes around the table turned to her.

Lexa felt her face flush and she took a steadying gulp of white wine. _Here we go_. “Well, you know my dad had a stroke while I was in law school. I had to drop out and move back to Florida to take care of him and my brother. And things got…complicated.”

*****October 2000*****

The front door swung shut with a careless bang and footsteps thudded down the hall. Lexa looked at the clock on the kitchen stove. _10:25_. She closed her gradebook and took her glasses off and dropped them on the table in front of her. She leaned her elbows on the table and rested her head in her hands for a moment, wearily massaging her temples to alleviate the dull ache that had become an almost constant companion. She’d been dreading this encounter all day, ever since the assistant principal interrupted her fourth period class. 

_Might as well get it over with_. She got up and stuck her head into the hallway. “Aden! Can you come in here, please?” She leaned her hips and lower back against the kitchen counter and crossed her arms. Moments later, a lanky teenager with shaggy hair falling in his eyes slouched into the kitchen. He wore baggy cargo pants, skater sneakers, and a faded black t-shirt. 

“What?” he asked sullenly.

“Where have you been? It’s nearly 10:30, you were supposed to be home hours ago.”

“Out.”

Lexa gritted her teeth. “Out where?”

He waved a hand vaguely. “You know. Around. Waffle House.” He swayed a little on his feet. Lexa stepped over to him and sniffed. 

“Are you _drunk?_ ” 

He shrugged noncommittally. Lexa held her seething temper in check. “Dammit, Aden, it’s bad enough that Ben Lafferty pulls me out of class to tell me my _brother_ has gotten suspended for three days for smoking pot under the bleachers, but then you just _disappear_ —I have no idea where you are, if you’re ok, whether I should call the police—and when you do finally show yourself, you’re _drunk!_ What is the matter with you?”

Aden just smirked and lifted one shoulder in another shrug. “You think this is _funny?_ ” Lexa threw up her hands. “Aden, it’s going to go on your permanent record! How do you think you’re going to get into college next year? Your grades this first quarter are already slipping, it’s going to be hard enough for you to get a scholarship—”

Aden turned away dismissively and rooted through the refrigerator for a soda while Lexa scolded. He popped the can and took a sip. “Not going to college,” he mumbled, boldly daring to make eye contact with her. 

Lexa snorted and set her jaw. “The _hell_ you’re not. So, what, you think you’re just going to quit school and play video games and eat Hot Pockets and get high with your stoner pals?”

He pushed past her and dropped into a chair at the dining table. “Dunno. I’ll get a job, I guess.”

“Doing what? Clerk down at the Circle K? Aden, you used to be so excited about college, you couldn’t wait to get out of this town. What the hell is going on with you?”

“Jesus, Lex, chill,” Aden scowled. “Quit being such a nag, you’re not my mother.”

At this, Lexa finally snapped. She slapped her hand down on the table hard enough to jolt the table and startle Aden. She shouted, “No, I’m not your fucking mom—mom fucking left, and dad’s in a fucking hospital, and I’m _it_ , Aden! I’m all there is!” She grabbed a handful of papers off of the table and shook them at him before tossing them across the kitchen. “Do you know what I’ve been doing all night while I sat here worrying about you? _Do you?_ Bills! Trying to figure out how we’re going to pay dad’s medical bills and still have enough left to pay the mortgage and buy food. Wondering whether I should try to find a second job, although—” she laughed humorlessly and began pacing “—God knows when I’d have time to work it, because if I’m not _at_ work, I’m doing lesson plans, or grading, or driving to Atlanta to be with dad. And now— _now_ , I have to worry about leaving you alone on those weekends, am I gonna get a call from the cops that you’re in jail, or you’re hurt, or…or worse! 

“God _damn_ it,” she cried in frustration. “I didn’t ask for _any_ of this!” She swept the rest of the papers off the table onto the floor and kicked at a dining chair. Aden watched with wide eyes. “I’m supposed to be finishing law school, not teaching social studies in some backwater high school! I’m supposed to be stressing about taking the bar exam and trying to meet girls, not sleeping on the sofa in a hospital room because I can’t afford a hotel, or worrying over whether my dad will ever walk again or if my little brother will have enough to eat! I can’t fucking _do_ this!” Her shoulders heaved and she felt tears starting to burn. She turned blindly and walked out the back door onto the patio, yanking the door shut behind her with a slam. She stood on the patio, arms wrapped around herself, taking deep gulps of air to try to get herself under control.

Aden sat very still, both hands flat on the table surface. After a long while, he got up and carefully picked up all the papers Lexa had scattered across the floor and stacked them neatly back on the table. Through the kitchen window he could see Lexa’s back in the glow of the dawn-to-dusk light. It looked like her shoulders were shaking. He stepped outside gingerly.

“I’m sorry, Aden,” Lexa said in a low, broken voice, without turning around. “I shouldn’t have said those things. It’s not your fault. None of this is your fault.”

He reached out and put a hand on her shoulder. “It’s not your fault, either, Lex,” he said gently. “I’m sorry. I haven’t really thought about what it must be like for you. I’m sorry I’ve been a burden.”

At that, Lexa did turn around. “No, Aden,” she said fiercely. “You’re _not_ a burden. _Never_. I will always be here for you, no matter what, you’re my baby brother. I just…got overwhelmed for a minute.”

Aden nodded. “I know. But I guess I _have_ been kind of a brat lately.”

Lexa looked at him flatly and raised an eyebrow. “ _Kind of?_ ”

Aden huffed. “Ok, _a lot_ of a brat. But—” he swallowed and blinked back tears of his own “—it’s really scary. To see dad like that, and we don’t know what’s going to happen, and _you_ can only do so much, and none of the kids at school understand…I know we don’t have much money…I just thought maybe it would be better if I got a job to help out instead of college, I know we can’t afford it,” he was still rambling when Lexa pulled him into a hug, both of them crying now. 

“Shh, buddy. It’s going to be ok. We’ll figure it out—we always do.”

*****June 2018*****

“…Once we got Dad accepted into the Shepherd Center, it made a huge difference. He can walk again, the intensive speech therapy helped him so much. It was like night and day. But I didn’t want to move and yank Aden out of school his senior year, and then he needed residency for in-state tuition at UF the next year…anyway, it meant a lot of driving back-and-forth between Florida and Atlanta for a few years. I really didn’t mean to fall out of touch, it was just…,” Lexa exhaled, “a lot on my plate.” 

She looked at Octavia apologetically. “I’m sorry I didn’t make it to your wedding, O—I wanted to come, but everything was kind of a blur, and we didn’t really have the money….”

Octavia just tsked and hugged her. “Shut up,” she whispered roughly. “I’m glad you’re here now.” 

“So what do you do now?” Ontari piped up.

Lexa sipped her wine. “Well, after all of that, I had to give up on law school. I taught high school for a while and did some freelance writing for a few travel magazines. Once Aden was in college and Dad was doing better, I picked up some writing gigs and was able to quit teaching. I finally landed a job as a travel writer for National Geographic and worked my way up to senior editor. I’ve been there about fifteen years now.”

Ontari didn’t seem overly impressed—she’d never had much respect for the humanities—but the others thought the job sounded cool.

“Wow, so you get to travel for a living?” Octavia asked. “That’s gotta be fun. What’s the most impressive place you’ve been?”

“Eh, I’ve mostly enjoyed it, but the travel can be wearing at times. Long-distance relationships can be tough,” she said a little sadly. “But most impressive…and keep in mind, I haven’t really done any assignments in Asia…I’d probably say Normandy. You really can’t comprehend how monumentally difficult the D-Day landings were until you’re standing there actually looking out over the beaches….”

“God, you’re such a History nerd!” teased Raven, and they all laughed. A warm ache spread through Clarke’s chest at seeing the passion in Lexa’s eyes. 

Ontari sniffed and tossed her head a little. “I suppose it’s nice that _some_ people have the time to travel. But with Travis, Marissa, and Lila, I just don’t know how we’d manage.” She slipped an arm around her husband’s ample waist and gave him a gooey smile. Clarke barely managed to refrain from rolling her eyes at Ontari’s patently obvious pomposity. Her remark sparked a barrage of kid stories and photo sharing. Clarke genuinely enjoyed Octavia and Lincoln’s boys, and she dutifully feigned admiration of Ontari’s brood. Lexa followed the whole exchange a little stiffly. Raven and Anya simply conversed privately on the far side of the table. 

“So Clarke,” Ontari said silkily, “what about you? Are you married? Any kids?” Her dark eyes barely concealed a spiteful glimmer. 

Clarke flinched and took a drink of her wine. Raven stopped talking and her hand tightened on Anya’s wrist. Lexa’s ears perked up, but she studied her wine glass intently and tried to look indifferent to mask her deep interest in Clarke’s reply. “No, not married,” Clarke said in a slightly strained voice. “I was with someone for a long time, but it didn’t work out. We never got around to having kids. Probably a good thing.” She swallowed the rest of her wine and cleared her throat. “I’m going for a refill. Excuse me.”

Lexa stared at her wine glass with unseeing eyes. _But...I thought…Finn…they seemed happy. Of course, *you* seemed happy with Costia…._ She jumped when Anya nudged her in the ribs. 

“What’s with you?” Anya asked curiously. “You were laughing a minute ago and now you look like a thundercloud.”

“Hmm? Oh! Nothing,” she said lamely. “Hey, look, there’s Monty and Jasper!” She raised an arm to get their attention and they ambled over. By the time Clarke returned from the wine table, Jasper, still lean as ever, was deep into recounting one of his hairier adventures as a certified arborist. 

“Clarke! Wow, gang’s all here!” Monty cheered, going around the table to give her a hug. “Just like old times. Remember the last time we did this?” 

Octavia groaned. “Don’t remind me, I don’t think my liver can take it.” 

Clarke stepped back and took a mental picture of all of them. Time had mostly been kind to them all, with perhaps the exception of Ontari (who Clarke was secretly pleased to see had put on a few pounds): a few more lines here, a few strands of gray there (“I’m surprised there’s not more, considering some of the shit I’ve seen,” Anya groused), perhaps a little softness around the middle for a few of them, but all in all they looked good. 

A toast!” Raven demanded, and they all raised their glasses. “Class of ’98, bitches!”

*****April 1998*****

Clarke took the stairs two at a time and threw open her door with a bang. “Lexa!” she shouted. “I’m done!” She tossed her backpack toward her desk—and missed—and threw her arms up in the air in victory. “ _We did it!_ Last class is _over!_ ” 

Lexa, who was trying not to swallow her tongue at the sight of Clarke bouncing around the room in a tight white tank top and cutoffs, cheered back and gave her a double high-five. “I’ll get the champagne—are you ready to go? I don’t think Raven and Octavia will be done until later, but we don’t have to wait on them to ring the bell.”

“No, no, no! We need music first!” Clarke pawed through the CD rack until she found the one she wanted and fed it into the CD player. They sang loudly through the song’s first verse, but the second stanza devolved into raucous shouting and hysterical laughter.

_“I went to see the doctor of Philosophy_

_With a poster of Rasputin and a beard down to his knee ___

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_He never did marry, nor see a B-grade movie_

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_He graded my performance, he said he could see through me_

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_I spent four years prostrate to the higher mind, got my paper, and I was free!”_

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They each grabbed a bottle of champagne from the mini-fridge and made their way to the Old Main building, giddy with excitement. Formal campus tradition held that seniors would ring the bell in the Old Main building after their last official class. Unofficial campus tradition held that seniors would toast each academic building they’d ever had class in. It was early afternoon and there was already a line of people up the stairs waiting to ring the bell. They eagerly waited their turns. Clarke went first. She yanked firmly on the bellpull and cheered at the resounding toll. Lexa whooped after her turn. She and Clarke threw their arms around each other and danced jubilantly. They still had finals and Lexa’s thesis defense to get through, but they had made it. 

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They went outside to the statue of one of the University’s founders and popped the corks. Champagne fizzed down the side of the bottles. Clarke’s pulse skipped at seeing Lexa trying to catch some of the foam with her tongue. She shuddered and steadfastly pushed the image from her mind. _Those overall jean shorts she’s wearing with damn near nothing under them are going to be the death of me. Focus, Clarke!_ They clinked the necks of their bottles together, toasted the statue and the Old Main, and took liberal swigs. The bubbles stung Clarke’s nose and she coughed a little until Lexa swatted her on the back. 

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“Ok, where to?”

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“Well, I have to hit the science buildings, and you’ve got the humanities, so, let’s just start here and work our way over to Morton and back.”

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They set out, stopping along the way to collect Raven, Octavia, and Lincoln from their dorms. Over the next hour or two, the five of them got progressively drunker. Lexa insisted on toasting not just the History building, but her major professors as well, and they roamed the building on unsteady legs hunting for hapless faculty members (who may or may not have hidden in the bathrooms to avoid the attention of rowdy, inebriated almost-graduates). They finished their odyssey in their old freshman dorm, laughing uproariously at the less-than-amused faces of the current inhabitants. They ran into Monty and Jasper on the way out, and the whole group staggered toward the quad. 

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By this point in the afternoon, the Old Main bell was ringing non-stop and a substantial portion of the student body was drunk (or well on their way) and relaxing on the quad: talking, lying in the sun, playing frisbee or hacky sack. Lincoln stretched out in a sunny spot with Octavia curled up against his chest. Raven sprawled in the grass with Monty and Jasper, who looked around furtively and took out a joint. 

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Lexa took in the mass of students milling about and turned to Clarke with a gleeful grin and glassy eyes. “Clarke!” She whispered loudly, “We need to streak!”

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Clarke shook her head. “What? It’s the middle of the _day_ , Lex!” She waved her hand at the crowd of people. “There’s _people_ everywhere!” 

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“That’s why we should do it!” Lexa insisted. “Ontari always gave us crap about how it’s not really streaking if you do it at night and there’s no one watching—”

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_Fucking Ontari…._

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“—so we should do it now!” 

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“Ok, but—Lexa! _Lexa, wait for me!_ ” Lexa had already turned away, and in an unfathomably smooth stroke for a drunk person, she unfastened the snaps of her overall shorts, whipped them off, and pelted off down the quad in just her black sports bra and panties.

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Clarke’s jaw dropped. She wrenched off her tank top and hopped unsteadily on one leg at a time to remove her own shorts before stumbling after Lexa in her underwear. A few drunken wolf-whistles and whoops went up, but fortunately the crowd was too drunk or oblivious to take much notice. 

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Clarke finally caught up with Lexa at the far end of the quad, where she had braced herself against a tree to put her shorts back on. Clarke doubled over and put her hands on her knees to regain her wind. When she straightened up, her breath caught for reasons entirely unrelated to the physical exertion. Lexa’s eyes had darkened and her gaze felt as if it seared Clarke’s skin as it swept over her breasts and belly and lower. Clarke couldn’t look away. Lexa reached out a tentative hand, as if to touch her cheek, but just then another pack of drunken students passed by and their catcalls shattered the moment. Lexa averted her eyes and Clarke hastily pulled her clothes back on, trying to will away her burning flesh and the warmth between her thighs.

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*****June 2018*****

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Clarke’s face heated as they all reminisced about that afternoon. She disingenuously blamed it on the wine. She tried not to look at Lexa, but she felt the weight of Lexa’s eyes on her.

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Anya hadn’t heard this story before, and she laughed till she cried. “I don’t know which is more hilarious,” she gasped in between peals of laughter, “Lexa stumbling down the quad in her underwear in broad daylight, or Lexa in _jean short overalls!_ ” She broke up again.

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“Laugh it up,” Lexa sassed. “I distinctly remember _you_ wearing mom jeans!” 

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“It was the ‘90s, Lexa, we all wore mom jeans,” snickered Anya. 

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“Well, you know, technically, it’s still not streaking because you still had clothes on,” Ontari cut in superciliously.

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Clarke did catch Lexa’s eye at that, and they both cracked up. Lexa wiped tears from her eyes before they could make her mascara run. “Oh, God, Clarke, I’ve missed you,” she said without thinking. She stopped laughing abruptly when she realized what she’d said. 

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Anya, Raven, and Octavia looked from Lexa to Clarke as if they were watching a tennis match. Clarke smiled weakly and said, “Yeah, me, too.”

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Jasper scooped some cheese onto an apple slice. “So you two were, like, super best friends and all, but Monty said you had some big fight and haven’t talked for twenty years.” He blithely crunched into the apple and mumbled with his mouth full, “So what gives? What happened?” 

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Anya, Raven, Octavia, and Lincoln held their collective breaths. 

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Clarke locked eyes with Lexa, stormy blue on flashing green. A blush crept across her cheeks and the tips of Lexa’s ears reddened. “Nothing _happened!_ ” they chorused in unison.

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*****May 1999*****

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Clarke was waiting in the parking lot of her apartment complex when Lexa pulled up in the Fire-Tipped Dart. She greeted Lexa with a powerful hug. “Lexa! I’m so glad you’re here.” She helped Lexa dig out her suitcase and haul it up the stairs to Clarke and Raven’s apartment. Raven had had her pick of half a dozen engineering graduate programs, but she’d ultimately settled on Georgia Tech for its combination of aerospace and mechanical engineering (not to mention significantly lower tuition and cost of living). With Clarke in med school just across town at Emory, it was a no-brainer for them to get an apartment together. 

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“How was the drive?” Clarke asked.

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“Not too bad, until I hit Georgia. Once I crossed the state line, I swear everybody drove like they thought they were Nascar racers.”

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Clarke laughed. “Yeah, that’s about right. Let’s get you settled in, and we can get some dinner. Raven wants to go to some club over in Buckhead, but I told her you’d probably be worn out after driving eleven hours.”

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Lexa yawned and stretched her stiff muscles. “You’re not wrong about that.” 

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They came in and stowed Lexa’s gear in an out-of-the-way corner of the living room. “I hate to make you sleep on the sofa,” Clarke apologized, “but I’ve still only got a twin right now, and Raven…well, who knows what goes on in Raven’s bed.”

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Lexa smirked and waggled her eyebrows teasingly. “Maybe I should find out?” Clarke snickered and shoved her playfully. “No, the sofa’s fine. It’s only for a few days, anyway.”

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“I know,” Clarke sighed, as they settled onto the sofa in question. “I wish you could stay longer, I haven’t seen you in months, and last time you were down I was slammed with work.” 

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“Me, too, but I’ve barely seen Dad and Aden since graduation; I promised I’d spend some time with them this summer. I won’t have many more opportunities—next summer I’ll need to be interning or clerking, and Aden’s already fifteen. I can’t believe he’ll be off to college himself in a couple years. But Clarke,” she shifted sideways on the sofa to look at her straight on, “I’ll have some time later in the summer. I know you said this is your last real chance to have a summer vacation before med school sucks the life out of you. How would you feel about taking a road trip? Or even going overseas, someplace like Paris or Amsterdam—ooh, Prague! We could probably still find some cheap flights, and I could show you around, all the cool places.” Clarke melted at the way Lexa’s eyes sparkled at the prospect. 

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“That’s…actually not a bad idea,” Clarke said thoughtfully. _Vacation in a romantic European city with my best friend that I’m kind of in l—…super-attracted to? What’s not to like?_ “I’ve never had much opportunity to travel, but I’ve got the time now—and this _is_ the calm before the storm, so to speak.” She grinned at Lexa. “Why not? Let’s do it.” 

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Lexa’s stomach gurgled. Clarke smirked. “But for now, food?”

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“God, yes, I’m starving. But I’m too tired to move off this sofa,” Lexa complained. 

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“Pizza it is, then,” Clarke said, placing the call.

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Raven came home from her job at the research institute at ten pm to find a half-eaten pizza on the coffee table, a rerun of Law and Order playing softly on the TV, and Clarke curled up with Lexa on the sofa, both of them sound asleep. She smiled and muttered, “Jesus, the two of you.” She cut off the TV and the lights and snagged a piece of pizza on her way to her room.

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*********

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The next night Raven refused to take no for an answer. “Come on, Clarke, we never go out!” she begged. “And Lexa’s here, it’ll be fun! We never have fun anymore, you always have to work.” She pouted and made puppy-dog eyes at Clarke and Lexa until they laughed and caved in. Ten pm found the three of them squeezed into a cab on their way to a club that one of Raven’s colleagues had recommended.

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“Isn’t this kind of late to be going out?” Lexa asked skeptically.

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“Nah,” Raven waved her hand. “This is early. Most places don’t get going until nearly midnight, and they’ll stay open until 4. Unless we go to Backstreet,” she said thoughtfully.

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Lexa’s eyes widened and she shook her head at Clarke. Clarke nodded in sympathy. “Uh, Rae, we’re not staying out until 4.”

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Raven shot her a withering look. “Whatever, Griffin. Spoilsport.” 

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They got out of the cab in front of the Have a Nice Day Café. Clarke eyed the club dubiously. A giant yellow smiley face festooned the outside and it looked like the inside blazed with day-glo flowers and disco balls. The music was a good mix of 70s funk/soul and 80s hits, though, and despite Raven’s claim that clubs didn’t pick up until later, this one was already pretty busy. They had a few drinks and danced for an hour or so. It didn’t take Raven long to make a new “friend,” and not long after that she cozied up to Clarke.

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“Will you be mad if I take off?” she shouted over the music.

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“No, I guess not, but are you gonna be ok?” Clarke responded.

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“Yeah, I’m not drunk, and I’ve got money for cab fare.” She nodded toward her companion, who was settling up his tab at the bar. “Small world, he’s actually friends with this guy Steve I know from GTRI. Anyway, don’t wait up.” She winked and moved off.

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Lexa looked at Clarke inquisitively. Clarke leaned over to talk in her ear. The warm tickle of her breath made it difficult for Lexa to concentrate on the words. “Raven’s taking off with that guy.” Lexa rolled her eyes. _Raven being Raven_. “What do you think, you wanna stay or take off?”

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Lexa made a face. “This is fun, but I’m kind of tired. You mind if we go?”

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“Yeah, me too.” She took Lexa’s arm and led the way off the dance floor. Lexa tried (unsuccessfully) not to stare at the swing of her hips as she pushed out the door and toward the cab stand.

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*********

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Lexa thumped her head on the pillow and kicked at the sheet restively. She’d been tired when they came back to the apartment. Once she’d changed into her pajama shirt and boxers and laid down on the sofa to sleep, though, a restless electricity seeped in. Her mind kept spinning, and it kept coming back to the same subject. _Clarke. Clarke, grinning with joy as the beat dropped…Clarke, mouthing the lyrics to “Sex Machine” along with James Brown…the bright blue gleam of Clarke’s eyes cutting through the dim light of the club…the curve of Clarke’s ass in those tight jeans, swaying in perfect rhythm to the music…._

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She closed her eyes and tried to will the images from her mind, to no avail. She thrashed over onto her back with a huff. It didn’t help that it was hot and stuffy in the apartment. She cursed and lifted her hips to tug off the too-hot boxer shorts…and froze. _It would put me to sleep_. She laid very still and listened hard, to gauge whether there was any sound from Clarke’s room. _Raven’s not here, and Clarke’s asleep…it wouldn’t be the first time…I can be quiet…it won’t take long…no one will ever know…._ Decision made, she shed the boxer shorts and let her hands drift down her body….

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Clarke woke from a fitful doze with a dry mouth and a burgeoning headache. She never slept well when she had more than a drink or two. It didn’t help that it was hot and stuffy in the apartment. She yawned and reached for the glass of water on the nightstand. It was empty. Clarke grumbled a little at having to rouse out of her bed to go to the kitchen for a refill. She didn’t bother to put her pajama shorts back on. _It’s just Lexa, and she’s asleep…not like she hasn’t seen me before, anyway._ She padded quietly to the door and eased it open. She tiptoed down the hall toward the kitchen as quietly as she could. As she passed the living room, she heard a muted whimper and a rustle. She slowed, and heard the sound again, this time with what sounded like a faint “ _Clarke_.” 

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_Is she having a nightmare?_ Clarke stepped noiselessly into the living room. From the ambient light of the streetlights seeping through the miniblinds she could see Lexa on her back on the sofa. Her eyes were shut, with a tiny wrinkle furrowing her forehead. She was biting her lip tightly and Clarke saw the outline of her hand moving slowly, rhythmically, beneath the sheet shoved down to her waist. 

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Oh. OH. Clarke’s mouth fell open. _Not a nightmare. Oh my God stop looking go back to your room and make a bunch of noise you shouldn’t be watching her look away Clarke it’s wrong look away look away dixieland!_ Clarke kept walking into the room, mesmerized by the scene in front of her, the faint gloss of sweat she could almost make out at Lexa’s hairline. She could no more stop her feet than halt the tides. Her foot fetched up against something in the dark and Lexa’s eyes flew open at the sudden sound.

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“Clarke,” Lexa whispered in horror, her hand stilling. Her face flooded with color. 

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The blood rushed in Clarke’s ears and she felt like she was moving through molasses. She sank onto the coffee table near the sofa, her own skin suddenly feverish. “Don’t stop,” she whispered hoarsely. 

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Lexa’s throat bobbed faintly as she swallowed. _Holy shit, is she serious?_ Her eyes locked on Clarke’s. Even in the low light she could see that they were dilated, only a small silvery ring showing around the pupil. _She means it_. And then conscious thought was gone. Without breaking eye contact, she slowly rucked up her pajama shirt until both of her small breasts were exposed. Her nipples puckered from the open air and the tension. She slid her left hand down her side and lightly ran it back up, over her quivering abs, to cup her left breast. Her heart hammered under her hand as she toyed with the delicate pebbled flesh and teased her nipple with her thumb, softly at first, then with a firmer touch. 

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Clarke almost stopped breathing. Her mouth ran dry as she imagined _feeling that soft weight under my hand, gently sucking a kiss into the underside, stiff, tongue-swollen nipples pressed against my own sweat-slicked body._ She watched Lexa run her right hand down, down between the valley of her breasts, and lower, carefully, deliberately drawing the sheet past her hips. This time, Clarke didn’t avert her eyes, she looked her fill and absorbed the jut of Lexa’s hipbones, the erratic dip of her navel with each unsteady breath. Her pulse raced and the heavy, liquid warmth between her own thighs made her squirm. 

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Lexa’s body felt on fire. Her hands trembled and she felt her pulse throbbing at her core. She shivered as she traced her own outline over the outside of her panties and then inhaled sharply when she slipped her right hand into the warm wetness beneath. She slowly teased herself under the fabric, but it wasn’t enough. She let her left hand drift downward and, as her heavy-lidded eyes bored into Clarke’s, she raised her hips and boldly inched her panties down and off. She bent her right leg against the back of the sofa and let her left splay off the edge, revealing all of herself to Clarke. 

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Clarke bit her lip to hold back a groan and soaked in the full sweep of Lexa from breasts to thighs to ankles, open and wanting _and perfection_. Lexa hummed quietly as her right hand dipped into the slick heat between her legs. As she watched Lexa slowly, purposefully work herself up, Clarke slipped a hand under her own pajama shirt to touch her own almost-painfully aroused nipples. Lexa’s breathing grew shallower and her hips canted up with intent as she drew smaller circles around her clit. “Clarke,” she panted, “Can I….” Her hooded eyes dropped to the apex of Clarke’s legs and the damp patch visible on her underwear. Clarke’s face flushed further (if such a thing were possible). She nodded vigorously and scooted forward enough to slide her panties down past her knees, exposing her own glistening folds to Lexa’s gaze. 

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It wasn’t enough. Clarke dropped onto her knees by the sofa. She inched closer to Lexa and gently cradled the side of her face with one hand. Lexa jolted a little at the touch and her eyes widened. “Is this ok?” Clarke murmured against the corner of Lexa’s mouth. Incapable of speech, Lexa simply nodded. Clarke closed her eyes and pressed her mouth to Lexa’s slightly parted lips. She reveled in her warmth and wet softness, the dizzying, heady texture of Lexa. Lexa whined as Clarke traced her tongue over her full bottom lip. She opened her mouth to slide her tongue over Clarke’s and finally taste her fully. Just as Clarke angled her lips to deepen the kiss and her hand began to stray to the column of Lexa’s neck, the unmistakeable jangle of keys at the door cut through Clarke’s fogged brain. She jerked back from Lexa.

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“Raven!” She hissed in panic, leaping to her feet and awkwardly yanking up her underwear.

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The key turned in the lock. Lexa’s eyes widened to saucers. “Go, go, go!” She pushed Clarke toward her bedroom with one hand and whipped the sheet up over her naked body with the other. She rolled over to face the sofa and feigned sleep as Raven walked in, praying that Raven couldn’t hear the thunderous pound of her heart. 

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Long after Raven had gone to bed, Lexa lay awake, her mind in greater turmoil than ever, and still uncomfortably aroused. She tried not to think of Clarke, just on the other side of the wall, possibly bringing herself release with thoughts of Lexa. She squeezed her eyes shut and eventually fell asleep to the memory of the taste of Clarke’s lips.

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Clarke woke up later than usual. Between her own arousal, images of the concentration on Lexa’s face as she touched herself, and her own whirling thoughts about What It All Meant, it had taken her forever to drop off. She woke up though, finally feeling clearheaded for the first time in a long time. She’d loved Lexa as a friend for years, and at some level she’d known that those feelings ran deeper than friendship. She’d finally stopped denying the physical attraction she felt for Lexa. But she’d only ever had those kind of feelings for guys, and she’d struggled with what it meant that she felt that way about Lexa. And Lexa had never suggested that she reciprocated those feelings—at least, not when she was sober—and Clarke was terrified of taking that leap in case Lexa truly didn’t feel the same way, because it meant rethinking her sense of self on a fundamental level. But this morning, none of that mattered.

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_I am in love with Lexa Woods. I don’t want to hide from this, from her, anymore._

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She pulled on some clothes and walked into the living room…to find a wild-haired, frantic Lexa shoving her belongings into her suitcase. 

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“Lexa?” Clarke frowned. “Lex, what’s wrong?”

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“It’s _Dad!_ ” she gasped, stopping and winding her hands through her hair. “Aden just called my cellphone, Dad had a stroke…he’s at the hospital, but we don’t know anything. Aden’s all by himself, he’s freaking out.” She looked at Clarke with shocked eyes. “I have to go.” 

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Clarke’s jaw dropped. “Lex, I’m so sorry.” She walked across the room and put her arms around her. Lexa responded automatically, but Clarke could tell her head was somewhere else. “Is there anything I can do?”

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Lexa shook her head. “I don’t even know, I—I just need to get home.” 

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Clarke nodded. “Of course. Are you going to be ok to drive? Do you want me to go with you?”

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Lexa gathered herself a little bit. “No, that’s ok, I think I’ll be all right. Aden needs me. I need to keep it together for him.” She chewed at her lip. “I’m sorry to just run out, especially after…what happened last night.” She avoided Clarke’s eyes.

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“Lexa—”

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“I shouldn’t have been doing that,” she whispered.

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“Lexa, no, hey, it’s ok. There’s no reason to be embarrassed,” Clarke tried to reassure her. “But—” she hesitated. _I can’t tell her how I feel now, she’s not thinking clearly. It’s not fair—to either of us—to bring this up now._ “I think we need to talk.”

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Lexa picked up on her hesitation and her seriousness. _Ohhh God, what have I done? She doesn’t feel the same way and now we can’t ever go back._ Her aching heart cracked open. “You’re right, Clarke. I—I made a mistake. Look, I’ve got to go. I’ll call you when I can.” She grabbed her bag and hastened out the door.”

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_Mistake? It wasn’t a mistake. She didn’t say goodbye._

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**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, Clarke. She who hesitates is lost.
> 
> And (in case you've been living under a rock for the last 30 years), that song is "Closer to Fine," Indigo Girls.


	12. Don't Look Back in Anger

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> *title from Oasis

*****June 2018*****

Clarke knocked on Octavia and Raven’s door. A bleary-eyed Octavia opened the door. “Morning, sunshine,” Clarke chirped. 

Octavia groaned. “How are you so perky this early?”

“Early? It’s 9am, Octavia.”

“Yeah, tell that to the herd of elephants doing circus tricks inside my head. I’m too old for this shit. How are you not hungover?”

Clarke shrugged. “Practice? And I’ve learned to lay off the red wine. Come on, coffee and something greasy from the dining hall will help. Where’s Raven?”

“I think she’s in the shower. Give me fifteen minutes or so to get ready and see if Lincoln’s up, and I’ll meet you out front.”

Clarke agreed and started to walk back to her room, then stopped and turned back to the opposite side of the hall. She rapped on the door quickly before she gave herself time to think. Lexa opened her door. Her eyebrows raised in surprise. “Clarke! Hi! Uh, what’s up?” _What’s up? Surely you can be more articulate than that._

“Good morning,” Clarke said a little awkwardly. “Octavia and I, maybe Lincoln, I don’t know who else—we’re gonna go get some breakfast in a little bit, would you want to join us?”

Lexa glanced at the time. “Crap. I’d really like to, but I was planning to go to Professor Indra’s lecture this morning. I’ve barely got time to grab coffee and still make it on time.” Clarke’s face fell. “But maybe we could get together later? What did you have in mind for this afternoon?” She continued hopefully. 

Clarke brightened at that. “Sure, that sounds good. We’ll probably get lunch somewhere, and then I think there’s some Historic Arkadia tours this afternoon that sounded like fun.”

Lexa smiled. “That sounds great. I haven’t been back to the historic district since I worked there, it’ll be fun to see what’s new.”

“New? Um, Lexa, isn’t history, by definition, _old_?” Clarke teased.

“There’s always new interpretations, Clarke—the archaeological surveys alone give us more information to build on, and I’m sure there’s new interpretive programs for the public, it’ll be interesting to see how that’s changed in twenty years….” Her voice trailed off at the smirk spreading across Clarke’s face. “Oh, shut up,” she grumbled in mock offense. 

Clarke just grinned. “You’re so cute when you nerd out.” Clarke’s eyes widened when she realized what she’d said. “Anyway,” she cleared her throat. “Just text me when you’re free and we’ll figure it out from there. Oh! You probably don’t have my number.” She fished her phone out of her pocket. “What’s your number, I’ll send you a message.”

“Is it the same number you used to have?” Lexa asked, not quite looking Clarke in the eye. Clarke nodded. “Then I still have it.” She checked the time again. “Shit! Sorry, Clarke, I’ve gotta run. But I’ll catch up with you later.” She gathered her things and hurried down the hall.

_She thinks I’m cute._

_She still has my number in her phone._

Clarke met Octavia—sporting a giant pair of sunglasses—and Lincoln in front of the dorm and they set off for the dining hall. “No Raven?” she asked.

Octavia shook her head and then winced at the motion. “No, she said she wanted to check out the new Physics lab—something about a collider—and Anya wanted to go for a run.” She shuddered at the thought. “They want to meet us for lunch later. I told them we’d see if Ye Olde Cheese Shop is still around.”

“That works. Lexa might meet up with us, too,” Clarke said casually.

Octavia hummed her interest. “Oh, you talked to _Lexa_ this morning? How’d that go?”

“Fine,” Clarke muttered evasively. _Good, even_. Octavia wisely decided not to press further.

Bacon, eggs, and coffee restored the color to Octavia’s cheeks, but she said she’d still rather have an easy morning. She gave Lincoln a not-so-subtle look. Clarke rolled her eyes and resolved to avoid that end of the hall for at least the next hour. They agreed on a time to meet up and then Clarke retrieved her sketch pad and pencils and charcoals from her room. It had been a long time since she’d had the time—or inclination, for that matter—to draw. She headed for the Old Main building, looking forward to spending a few leisurely hours immersed in the creative process. 

*********

Lexa slid into a seat in the lecture hall just as one of the reunion weekend aides began to introduce Professor Indra. The room was half full, with perhaps one or two vaguely familiar faces in the audience. Most of Lexa’s old professors had long since retired or moved on, but she’d been heartened to see Indra’s name on the list of alumni weekend lecture offerings. Indra had been the new assistant professor of military history when Lexa arrived at Arkadia. In the years since, she’d earned promotion to full professor and department chair. Though she hadn’t been Lexa’s primary adviser, Lexa had taken a number of classes with her and they had built a collegial rapport that belied Indra’s gruff exterior. 

Lexa settled in to enjoy the lecture on “New Interpretations of World War Two.” She visited historical sites in addition to cultural and recreational venues in the course of her work, but she rarely had the time or opportunity to take in new scholarship or historical talks, and documentaries could be so uneven (she shuddered at the thought of that dreadful _World War Two from Space_ drivel she’d watched on Netflix). Despite Lexa’s interest in the topic, though, her mind drifted away from recent insights into wartime military intelligence toward more pressing concerns, namely, Clarke. _The flash of her teeth as she laughed at Raven’s innuendoes…the golden shimmer of her hair in the sun’s dying rays…the swell of her hips in that maxi skirt…the dull glint of pain in her blue eyes when Ontari needled her…._ Lexa couldn’t get the conversation out of her mind. Finn. _How long? Why didn’t she ever say anything to me? *Probably the same reason you never said anything about Costia,*_ mocked the annoying voice in her head. Most importantly, _what did he do to put that pain in her eyes? And what can I do to take it away?_ She’d tried to put Clarke out of her mind for so long, for both their sakes, but now, maybe…. _Don’t get ahead of yourself. You have no idea what her life is like now, what she might want. You have to be careful of your own feelings._ Lexa had a sinking feeling, though, that she might already be past the point of no return. 

She dragged herself out of her reverie and redirected her attention to Indra’s remarks on the Japanese high command and the decision to use the atomic bomb. The talk concluded about ten minutes later, and Lexa walked to the front of the hall. She waited to speak until the small throng of well-wishers and former students dispersed, but Indra beat her to the punch. “Lexa Woods!” Indra gave her a genuine smile and clasped Lexa’s hand firmly.

“I’m amazed you remember me after all this time,” Lexa said with surprise. 

Indra tsked at her. “You were one of the best students I’ve had in my career here at Arkadia, of course I remember you.” She cast a shrewd eye over Lexa. “You even look the same.”

Lexa’s face warmed with shy embarrassment. “So do you.” The older woman did, in fact, look remarkably unchanged. A few more lines on her dark-skinned face, a few more flecks of gray, but still the same penetrating gaze and intellect. 

“I’d love to hear about what you’ve been doing these last twenty years,” Indra said, and then made a face. “I refuse to believe that it’s been that long, because then I have to acknowledge that I’m also twenty years older.” She looked at the clock on the wall. “Are you free for lunch?”

Lexa paused for a moment. _I told Clarke…but I can meet up with them later for the tours._ “Sure, lunch sounds good. Is Vito’s still around?”

Indra looked at her flatly. “Even a fire couldn’t put Vito’s out of business.”

They walked to the Italian restaurant a few blocks from campus, sat down, and placed their orders. “So, if I remember correctly, you were headed to law school…was it UVA?”

“Georgetown, yes. I had to leave after my first year, though. Family emergency.” She gave a bare bones explanation. 

“I’m sorry to hear that, Lexa,” Indra said sincerely, “I was sure you’d become a successful attorney.” She saw a shadow flit across Lexa’s face, and she added, “I don’t mean that as a criticism. Life sometimes gets in the way of our plans. I only meant that I was sure you’d excel at whatever you chose to do. What path did you find instead?”

As they ate their meals, Lexa described her time as a teacher, writer, and editor. Indra listened attentively. “I’m headed to Europe again in September. It’s been a few years since we updated some of the guidebooks, and the senior staff wants to do a wholesale revision, not just an update.”

“It sounds fascinating, Lexa. You always were a great writer, I’m glad you’ve been able to put it to use. Do you enjoy it?”

Lexa reflected for a moment. “Yes and no. I like writing, I like being able to write about history and culture—I think that’s something I would have missed as a lawyer,” she admitted. “And when I first started, I loved the travel: the adventure of it, the chance to see new places that I’d otherwise never get to. But as I’ve gotten older…it can be pretty solitary. And it can cause challenges in my personal life,” she said honestly. 

Indra eyed her perceptively. “Is that what had you zoning out halfway through my talk?”

“What? No! I wasn’t zoning out,” Lexa protested.

Indra cocked an eyebrow at her. “Oh, so you can tell me all about how our understanding of Operation Uranus has evolved since the fall of the Soviet Union?”

Lexa shifted in her seat and looked away. “Well…I might have zoned out just for a minute….”

“Lexa, I didn’t even discuss Operation Uranus,” Indra said smugly.

Lexa huffed. “ _Fine_. Maybe more than a minute. It’s…just some personal stuff. Indra,” she said hesitantly, and in that moment Indra saw the shy, vulnerable young woman Lexa once was. “Do you ever…have regrets? About your career? The choices you’ve made?”

Indra sat back and considered the question. She didn’t generally share aspects of her personal life with students, but they’d always been closer than teacher-student, and Lexa hadn’t been her student in a long time. “Yes…and no,” she said slowly. “Not about the work. I’ve enjoyed the research and the writing—even the teaching, although I’d give you a different answer during finals week.” Lexa smiled. “But sometimes, the choices I made to further my career…well. For women of my generation and earlier, there weren’t as many women in academia then, and there was a lot of pressure on female scholars to prove ourselves—publish or perish—and that sometimes came at a cost. Relationships, putting families on hold…sometimes I wonder what might have happened if I’d made _those_ choices differently.” 

Indra looked at Lexa intently. “But whether _I_ have regrets isn’t really the issue, I think everyone does. You know as well as anyone that there’s always trade-offs in life.” She shook her head. “You’re still young, the real challenge—my unsolicited advice—is don’t look back at what might have been. Look ahead to what could be, and figure out what you really want out of life, what will truly make you happy. Maybe it’s work, maybe it’s something else. Because you _don’t_ want to look back in another twenty years and realize you missed it.”

Lexa nodded slowly, absorbing Indra’s words. She changed the subject. “So, your research—I haven’t really kept up with the field, what are you working on now?” They spent the rest of lunch chatting about the various projects that Indra had in the pipeline. 

Just before they parted ways, Indra said, “I’m glad you came to the talk this morning, it’s really good to see you doing so well. Actually, I thought about this when you were describing your work. How would you feel about giving a presentation to some of our undergrads and graduate students about your experiences? We’ve been trying to highlight alternative career options for History majors, and you’re very clearheaded about the pros and cons of your work; that’s a perspective that would be useful for them to hear. I’m sure I could finagle some funds from the Dean to cover your expenses, maybe even a small honorarium.”

Lexa thought about it, then said, “Yeah, I think I’d like that. I’ll check my calendar when I get home and we can coordinate over email to schedule a date.”

“Excellent. That will also give you time to study up on the details of Operation Uranus. There _will_ be an exam,” Indra deadpanned.

*********

Raven sauntered into the restaurant and dropped a quick kiss on Anya’s cheek before she slid into the seat next to her. “Hey, babe, how was your run?”

Anya smiled in reply. “The humidity here sucks, but I can’t complain about fast, level terrain.” Her hand smoothed a light caress on Raven’s thigh. 

Clarke came back to the table with a tray in her hand and caught the end of their exchange. She shuddered. “How are you two so… _domestic_ …after just a few months?” Anya and Raven just shrugged and grinned at each other. Clarke took a plate of food off the tray and set it in the middle of the table. 

Octavia cheered. “Yay! Bread ends and house!” She dunked a scrap of bread in the dressing and popped it in her mouth. Clarke thought she looked disgustingly relaxed and chipper for someone who’d been hungover just hours earlier. The five of them munched happily on the appetizer and caught each other up on their mornings. Octavia claimed that she and Lincoln had “napped,” which no one believed. Anya worked in a long, scenic run and as relaxing a shower as could be enjoyed in the shared hall shower room. Raven had bumped into some PhD students in the new Physics facility and spent a couple of hours geeking out with them. She was waxing eloquent about about some piece of equipment that no one could spell when Clarke’s phone beeped. She checked the text message.

 **Unknown:** It’s Lexa. Will have to skip Cheese Shop, having lunch with Indra.

Clarke’s face dropped. She added the contact and typed a quick reply.

 **Clarke:** No prob. Doing tour later. Lmk if you want to join.

She sent the message and placed her phone face down on the table. She pretended that she wasn’t impatient for an immediate, affirmative response, but her foot’s nervous knocking against her chair gave her away. The phone beeped again and she quickly flipped it over to check. 

**Lexa:** I do. Tell me where/when and I’ll meet you after lunch.

Clarke smiled unconsciously as she keyed in the details. Raven had finished her story by this point, and she watched closely as the competing expressions crossed Clarke’s face. “Who’re you texting that just turned that frown upside down?” she asked with a smirk. 

Clarke unsuccessfully fought off a blush. She tried to play casual. “Oh…just Lexa. She said she couldn’t make lunch, but she’ll meet us for the tour.”

“Uh huh,” Raven said, concealing her grin. “How’d she know we’d be here for lunch? Anya and I didn’t know until Octavia texted us a little while ago.”

“Yeah, and Linc and I haven’t seen Lexa this morning,” Octavia chimed in helpfully.

Clarke’s cheeks heated further. “I invited her this morning before we went to breakfast,” she said a little sheepishly.

Raven’s eyes widened in feigned innocence. “Oh, you _did?_ So you’re on speaking terms again?”

“We were never _not_ on speaking terms, Raven, we just didn’t…talk,” Clarke said enigmatically. 

“Whatever, Griffin,” Raven said, rolling her eyes, “someday I’m going to get it out of you.”

“Dammit, Raven,” Clarke said with exasperation, “how many times do I have to tell you, _nothing happ_ —”

“Oh, ‘nothing happened,’ my ass. You’re so full of shit, none of us believe that for a second. I still can’t understand how you and Lexa never managed to get together back then. You were both so damn clueless and stubborn. Are you finally going to get over yourself and go for it with her?”

Clarke tried to deflect. “Raven, she was my best friend! I can’t—I mean, I’m sure she’s got a life, probably a girlfriend…I don’t want to confuse the issue, or maybe make a fool of myself….”

Anya shook her head. “I can state for the record that she’s not seeing anyone. Hasn’t for a few years now, that I know of.” 

“What? But what about Costia?” Clarke blurted before she caught herself and clamped her lips shut. 

“Who’s Costia?” Octavia asked.

“Lexa’s ex-girlfriend,” Anya said flatly. Clarke tried to ignore her suspicious eyes drilling into the side of her head. 

“But how does Clarke know Lexa’s ex?” Octavia queried in confusion.

“I think Raven might have mentioned her,” Clarke said.

Raven’s eyes narrowed to mirror Anya’s. “Lexa never told me her name—”

“Well, then Lexa must have said it last night,” Clarke interrupted desperately. “Anyway, she can’t make it for lunch. But we should order. I’m having the roast beef on rye, what about you guys?”

Raven dropped the subject for the moment while they ordered their sandwiches and ate, but she refused to let it go completely. After they ate, Octavia and Lincoln left for a baseball game with Lincoln’s frat brothers. Anya, Raven, and Clarke remained behind, killing time until the tours began, and Raven picked up the thread again. “Clarke, how long are you going to pretend you don’t have feelings for Lexa? I mean, it was obvious that you were in l—”

Anya kicked Raven’s foot under the table and shot her a warning glance.

“—that you cared about her back in college. We could all see it, why can’t you?”

“Raven,” Clarke groaned, “it’s not that I don’t. But it’s…complicated. There’s so much water under the bridge at this point, I don’t know why she’d even want me—”

“Goddammit, Clarke, is this about Finn?” Anya looked at Raven questioningly. Raven shook her head imperceptibly. _Tell you later._

“No—” Clarke insisted weakly

“Because you know that’s bullshit. Finn was a liar and an _asshole!_ It wasn’t something wrong with _you_ ,” Raven growled insistently.

“I know, Raven,” Clarke said quietly. “I know Lexa’s not Finn.” 

Raven dialed it down a notch. “Clarke, after your dad…after Finn…you’ve been sad for so long. All any of us want is for you to be happy again. Lexa was your best friend—you have a connection with her that you never had with any of us—and I’ve seen a more genuine smile on your face around her in the last day than I think I’ve seen in years. You’ve got a second chance at a future with her, what are you afraid of?”

*****April 1996*****

Clarke shifted in her seat. It was nearly midnight. She’d been sitting at her desk for a couple of hours and her butt was starting to go numb. She stared at her Chemistry book, the same page she’d been trying to read unsuccessfully for half an hour. Finally she gave up and put her head down on her desk atop her crossed arms. She wished she hadn’t gone to the career planning fair earlier. At least Ontari had gone home for the weekend and she didn’t have to deal with the low-grade animosity. She wasn’t sure she could take it tonight.

Lexa came home from the library a little while later and found Clarke slumped over her desk in an old t-shirt and pajama pants. “Hey Clarke, I thought you were hanging out with Raven and Octavia tonight.” She took her books out of her backpack and began stacking them on her desk. 

Clarke straightened up. “No, it didn’t work out. Raven got a date, and Octavia decided to bail to hang out with Lincoln, so….I figured I’d might as well get a jump on this Chem homework while I can study in the room.” She got up from her chair and stretched a little bit, then puttered aimlessly around the small room. 

“Sounds like your Friday night’s been as exciting as mine,” Lexa joked, as she changed into her own pajama shirt and boxer shorts. Clarke made no reply. Lexa’s eyes followed her around the room as she rearranged the junk on her dresser and fidgeted with the folders on her desk. “Clarke? Is something wrong?” Lexa asked curiously.

“No. Yes…I don’t know,” Clarke gave a frustrated sigh and ran a hand through her hair. “It’s hard to explain.”

Lexa sat down in her desk chair. “What’s going on?”

Clarke placed both hands on the back of her own desk chair and leaned forward against it. “I don’t know, exactly. I had go home to be in my friend’s wedding last weekend, and it got me thinking about a lot of stuff.” 

“Like what?” Lexa prompted. 

“Just…everything. I mean, this was a friend from high school, and she was a year ahead of me and she’s not going to college, so it’s different. But it makes me think, what about me? She’s already getting married and I haven’t even had a serious _boyfriend_. And then I come back here and Octavia’s with Lincoln…and Raven’s dating people….” She pushed the chair away and began to pace in a circle. “I went to that stupid career fair today,” she shook her head. “What am I even _doing_ with my life? I’m not even sure I want to _be_ a doctor, and then I look at the rest of you guys, and you’ve all got your shit together. I mean, years from now, I can imagine all of you being successful—you’re gonna be a lawyer, Becky’s probably running marathons and saving the environment, Raven’s, like, an astronaut, and Octavia and Lincoln having kids…I just…don’t see any of that for myself.” She felt herself starting to get worked up. 

“Clarke—”

“And you guys are all going to be _twenty_ …and after that we’ll be _thirty_ , and then we’ll be _old!_ ” She sat down on the floor and leaned her back against her dresser, letting her head flop back against it. “I just can’t see any _future_ —I can see it for you guys—but not for me, and I don’t know what to _do_.” She felt tears pricking at her eyes.

Lexa got up and moved over to sit next to Clarke on the floor. She bumped Clarke’s shoulder with her own. “Hey, hey, Clarke, c’mon. You’re having a freak out. Maybe it seems like we all know what we’re doing, but that’s so not the case. I mean, I managed to pull together this study abroad trip—but I didn’t think I could, you know that; I’m still not quite sure how I did it. I look at our friends sometimes, too, and yeah, we’re intimidating. We’re all smart, we’re motivated, we mostly have a sense of what we want to do—but that includes, _you_ , too. I could never do half the things you do. Don’t let Ontari get under your skin, you’re just as good a student as she is, and probably a better doctor, too, if you want to be, because you have more empathy. But we’ve all got fears and doubts—every single one of us.”

She took Clarke’s hand and twined their fingers together. “We don’t have to have our whole lives figured out now, or even in the next couple of years. If you get into it and decide you don’t want to be a doctor,” she shrugged, “don’t. You’re allowed to change your mind. Sure, thirty’s old, but that’s a long way off and we’ve got time to figure things out.” 

Lexa felt Clarke’s tension ease as she continued. “Maybe _you_ don’t see a future for yourself, but _I_ do, cause you’re funny, and smart, and gorgeous, and who _wouldn’t_ want Clarke Griffin?” Lexa felt a sudden urge to bring their hands to her lips and kiss Clarke’s fingers, but she held back. “I don’t know, maybe you’ll beat him at trivia, or kick his ass at pool or something, but you’re going to meet someone who sees how awesome you are and wants you for you.” Her ears reddened a little at the odd surge of passion she felt behind her words. She turned her head and saw tears glistening in Clarke’s eyes. “Aw, Clarke, it’s ok.” She pulled Clarke into a hug.

Clarke hugged her back tightly. “Thanks, Lexa, I needed to hear that,” she whispered against Lexa’s shoulder. “You’re awesome, too.”

*****June 2018*****

Clarke, Raven, and Anya walked from Ye Olde Cheese Shop to the town green a few blocks away to meet up with the tour guides. Anya and Raven kept up a snarky banter most of the way. Lexa’s text that she was on her way had stirred the butterflies in Clarke’s belly, though, and she paid little attention to their conversation. 

“Hey, Clarke,” Raven interrupted her nervous musings and shoved a phone in her hand. “Get a picture of me and Anya in the stocks!” She stood next to Anya and they stuck their heads and hands through the holes in the old-time punishment structure for the photo op. 

Clarke had to laugh at Raven leveling her best shit-eating grin at the camera. “You look like such tourists!” 

“Whatever. We were too cool to do goofy tourist crap when we were in school, so I wanna make up for it now. Your turn!” Clarke rolled her eyes, but took her place in the stocks. Just as she’d put her head through the hole, she caught sight of Lexa walking toward them. She wore a basic black tank top and khaki shorts, and her hair was pulled back in a loose ponytail. Clarke drank in the flex of her long, tanned legs as she approached. She didn’t realize she’d been staring until she heard Raven call her name. “ _Clarke._ Jesus, Griffin, I already took the picture, pick your tongue up off the ground.”

Clarke jerked so abruptly that she smacked the back of her head on the stocks. She was rubbing her scalp gingerly and shooting a dirty look at Raven when Lexa joined them. Lexa raised an eyebrow, but Clarke just shook her head. Raven had no such compunction. “Hey, Lexa, glad you finally got here. This one, ” she said, jerking a thumb at Clarke, “has been skittish as a long-tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs ever since she got your text.” 

Anya snickered at Raven’s characterization. Clarke’s face burned. “Raven, I have _not_ ,” she growled. “God, you’re terrible.”

A dopey smile spread across Lexa’s face at the idea of Clarke being nervous or eager to see her. She caught Anya smirking at her and hastily cleared her throat. “Yes, well…sorry I had to skip lunch, I ended up catching up with Indra.” She filled them in on her morning and Indra’s invitation to speak to Arkadia students. 

“Lex, that’s great,” Clarke encouraged her. “That’s the kind of discussion about non-academic careers that _you_ wanted to have back then, you’ll be great at it.” Lexa’s small smile was the only outward indication of her pleasure, but she felt her chest swell with pride at Clarke’s praise. 

The tour finally began, and their group clustered around a young man—likely a college student himself—in eighteenth-century attire. He recounted the original history of the town and the modern-day restoration initiative as he led them past the town arsenal, the state house, the governor’s mansion, and a scattering of taverns, fields, and workshops. They stopped from time to time along the way to take in living history demonstrations of firing muskets on the town green, printmaking, and even an abridged eighteenth-century Punch and Judy show. 

Clarke hung back with Lexa. She had long since tuned out the tour guide in favor of sticking close to Lexa to hear her quiet asides and anecdotes. As the tour wore on, she found herself paying less attention to the actual sights around her and more to the look on Lexa’s face as _she_ took in the historic district. Her expression of nerdy delight stoked a warm glow in Clarke’s chest that flared into outright heat whenever their eyes happened to meet. 

Lexa barely held back a squeal of glee when they reached the interactive demonstration at the brickyard, where guests could shed their shoes and help mix water into the clay with their feet. “You guys, we _have_ to do this!” Raven and Anya looked at her as if she was crazy. 

“Uh, I’m not putting my feet in that,” Anya said definitely.

“Sorry, Lexa, I don’t think my leg can take it,” Raven demurred.

“ _Please_ , Clarke? I know it’s silly, but I’ve always wanted to do it,” Lexa begged. Clarke was helpless to resist her shining eyes and the palpable excitement on her face. She groaned.

“ _Fine_. Good thing I’m wearing sandals,” she muttered, kicking them off and walking over to the pit of dirt, clay, and water. 

Lexa cheered. She slipped off her own sandals and stepped into the mud pit. A handful of children were stomping away while their parents looked on, but she and Clarke were the only adults in the pit. She laughed at the feel of the cool wet clay oozing between her toes as she worked her feet in it. “C’mon, Clarke! This feels great!” 

Clarke shrugged philosophically. She waded in and took a few ginger stomps. It did actually feel pretty nice, she admitted. Lexa’s enthusiasm was contagious, and Clarke soon found herself tramping vigorously in the mud with an answering goofy grin on her face. Unfortunately, however, she lost her balance when her foot got stuck on a particularly forceful stomp. She felt herself slipping, but couldn’t shift her other foot in time to catch herself, and she landed on her ass in the mud. Lexa guffawed at the expression on Clarke’s face, first at the fall, and then at her hapless attempts to stand up. 

“Oh, laugh it up,” Clarke retorted. Lexa finally relented and extended her hand to help her up. Clarke held her hand for a beat, then grinned deviously and yanked Lexa off balance, face-first into the mud. She whooped in triumph. 

Lexa pushed herself onto her side and into a sitting position. “I can’t believe you just did that!” she squawked. Mud covered her whole front and streaked her face. She scooped up a handful of glop and slapped it across Clarke’s face to shut her up. 

Clarke yelped and spat out a wad of mud. “Why, you—” She grabbed her own handful of mud and slathered it in Lexa’s hair. 

By now, even the children playing in the pit stood slack-jawed, gaping at the spectacle of two grown women wallowing in a mud fight.

“Oh, Griffin, it is _on!_ ” Lexa bellowed. She lurched to her knees and lunged at Clarke, knocking her flat on her back and landing across her with an _oof_. She caught her breath at the sudden heat of Clarke’s body beneath her, the mud slicking their skin where they crushed against each other, the fire blazing from Clarke’s eyes as they locked with her own. _One little shift…my knee between her thighs…pressing my body down against hers...kissing the mud from those soft, full lips…._

*********

“I’ve gotta hand it to you,” Anya groused sarcastically, “you really outdid yourselves this time.” She and Raven walked behind Lexa and Clarke, marching the two culprits back to the dorm. “I mean, what the hell, Lexa? We were escorted from the premises by a kid in _knee breeches_ and a _tricorn_.”

“Really, Clarke. There were children watching,” Raven scolded.

Clarke and Lexa both had mud drying in their hair, mud streaking their faces and bodies, mud caked into their clothes. They self-consciously ignored the stares and whispers from passers-by, both a little lost in thought. _God, her hands…I wish I had kissed her…._

“Are you even listening to us? Now you’re both going to need showers. Jesus, we can’t take you anywhere!” Raven exclaimed in exasperation. 

That cut through the haze. Clarke and Lexa glanced at each other and finally took in the mayhem that they’d wrought on each other. Clarke’s shoulders began to shake and Lexa bit valiantly at her lip to hold in her mirth, but to no avail. Their giggles devolved into hysterical laughter, until tears cut streaks through the mud caked on their faces. Anya and Raven shook their heads in mock disgust.

They reached the dorm and climbed the stairs to their floor. Raven pushed past them and called down the hall toward Octavia’s open door, “Hey, O! Come out here, you’ve gotta see these two fools!” This was apparently a blanket invitation for the whole hall to gawk: Ontari and Octavia emerged from Octavia’s room, Monty and Jasper looked on from the guys’ end of the hall, and Harper, Fox, and Fox’s roommate Mel came to the door of Harper and Clarke’s room. Clarke felt like she was walking a gauntlet. 

“What. The. Hell.” Octavia was nearly speechless. Ontari’s face looked a child’s on Christmas morning.

“It, um, it was an accident….” Clarke said sheepishly as the titters grew. “I…slipped, and Lexa tried to help….”

Anya snickered. “Yeah, if by ‘help,’ you mean, ‘held you down and smeared mud all over you.’” 

Clarke’s face turned red under the coating of filth. “Yeah, well, she’s stronger than she looks,” she muttered. 

Octavia reined in her laughter and held up a hand. “You know what, I don’t even want to know. You guys had better hurry and get cleaned up, though, alumni night at the delis starts in about an hour and we want to get there early to get a table.”

Clarke nodded and gathered her shower gear and fresh clothes. By the time she walked into the shower room, one stall was already occupied with the water running. She undressed and started her own shower, resolving not to think about Lexa, just feet away, soaping the mud off her lithe body…. She cranked the cold water up a few notches. It was simultaneously the quickest and the longest shower she could remember.

*********

The delis were already pretty busy when they arrived. Even though everyone was now well past the legal age and they had their choice of venues, they still gravitated to Paul’s in unspoken agreement. Raven, Octavia, and Monty snapped up one of the few remaining tables while the others ventured to the counter to place food and drink orders. Clarke, Jasper, and Anya returned bearing pitchers. “Might as well drink up while it’s on the alumni association’s tab,” Clarke said with a grin. They filled their cups and clicked them together. 

Over the next several hours, they munched on nachos (“Holy shit, guys, how have I lived for twenty years without these nachos?” Octavia moaned with her mouth full), drank beer, and circulated throughout the bar catching up with friends and acquaintances. They always made sure to leave at least a few people at the table so they wouldn’t lose it. At one point, Clarke found herself alone with Ontari, who, unlike the rest of the group, was sipping on something blue and fruity. Clarke reflected that this was probably the first time she’d interacted with Ontari one-on-one since they’d lived together. She reasoned that she was unlikely to get a better chance, and at least she could blame it on the alcohol if she made a fool of herself.

“So, Ontari,” she said loudly, to be heard over the noisy bar, “I’ve wanted to talk to you for a long time, but we haven’t actually seen each other.” Ontari raised her eyebrows in skeptical disbelief. “Back in school, when we lived together…I know you were going through some stuff, with your mom.” Ontari’s face hardened a little bit. “I just wanted to say that I’m sorry I wasn’t a better roommate—better friend—back then. I was young and I didn’t understand—and I’m not saying that as an excuse—but I wish we’d gotten along better, and I’m sorry for my part in that.” She took a long gulp of her beer, relieved to have gotten it off her chest, regardless of what Ontari’s response might be. 

Ontari took in what she’d said, then replied loftily, “Well, you weren’t exactly the easiest person to live with, Clarke. But it was a long time ago, and I’ve gotten past it. I have better things to focus my thoughts on these days.” 

“Uh…that’s good, I guess? Glad to hear it.” Clarke laughed to herself. _Oh, Ontari. Like you were a peach of a roommate yourself. At least I tried. I said my piece, not like I expected much from her to begin with._

On the other side of the bar, Raven sank her last two shots and pocketed the eight ball. “And that’s me _again!_ Pay up, Murphy!” she gloated.

“I can’t believe this—you _hustled_ me, Reyes!” Murphy scowled as he slapped the bills down on the table. Raven had deliberately tanked the first couple of games to feed Murphy’s ego, then stormed back and crushed him—after upping the stakes, of course. 

“Rematch?” she asked sweetly, pocketing his cash.

“Hell, no, I’m out. Find another sucker.” He drifted away to drink with Atom and a couple of other former hallmates. 

“C’mon, who’s up next? I’ll go easy,” Raven promised smugly.

"Whatever, Raven,” Anya scoffed. “Like Murphy was _actual_ competition.”

“Oh yeah? Then why don’t you bring it, Hunter?” Raven goaded, inching closer to Anya.

Anya smirked and leaned into Raven’s face. “You couldn’t handle me.”

Raven cocked an eyebrow. “That’s not what you said last night,” she whispered in a low voice. 

Anya shot her a mock glare even as the corners of her lips twitched. “Oh, it’s like that, is it? All right, me and Lexa—” Lexa yelped as Anya turned and dragged her over by the arm “—against you and…whoever.”

Raven’s eyes sparkled and she smiled like the cat who’d gotten into the cream. She bent over and whispered to Octavia, “Go get Clarke.” Octavia looked at her questioningly. “Trust me, just do it.” Raven stepped toe-to-toe with Anya. “You’re on,” she growled. “You’re going down. _Literally_ ,” she rasped in Anya’s ear with a suggestive smirk. 

Anya hummed in reply. “I like it when the stakes are…interesting,” she murmured back. 

They backed away from each other when Octavia returned with Clarke in tow. “Anya thinks she can take you and me at pool,” Raven said.

“Does she now? Somebody’s about to get schooled, then.” Clarke grinned in anticipation until she looked across the table and saw Anya’s partner. Her eyes widened. _Lexa._

*****February 2006*****

Lexa picked at the basket of popcorn and willed herself not to look in the mirror over the bar. _How does the line go? ‘Of all the gin joints in all the towns in all the world, she walks into mine.’ Hell._ Against her better judgment, she snuck another peek. She startled at the touch of a hand on her arm.

“Lexa?” Costia asked, her forehead creased in befuddlement.

Lexa shifted sideways to look at her. She smiled apologetically. “Sorry, babe, what did you say?”

Costia chuckled. “I just asked if something was on your mind, you seem kind of distracted tonight.” Her hand lingered and gently caressed Lexa’s forearm. Lexa placed her own hand on top of Costia’s. She shook her head and tamped down a small frisson of guilt.

“No…it’s nothing. Really.”

“Are you sure? Because you keep looking over at that couple in the booth. Do you know them?”

 _Crap._ “No…maybe…I don’t know.” Costia raised her eyebrows in question. Lexa took a breath. “The woman…she kind of looks like my old college roommate. Clarke. But I’m sure it’s not her, I haven’t seen her in a long time.”

Costia squeezed her arm and gave it a little shake. “Lexa! Why didn’t you say so? We should go over and see. If it _is_ the infamous Clarke,” she grinned mischievously, “I’d like to meet her. You’re so close-mouthed about college, I’ll bet Clarke has some great stories.” She tugged a reluctant Lexa to her feet and walked her towards the other table. Lexa could pinpoint the exact moment Clarke spotted them: her jaw fell open and her eyes grew huge. Her companion, a cleanshaven, dark-haired man with hair falling in his face, looked their way with a baffled expression. Lexa’s stomach clenched. She approached their table and stopped, Costia a half-step behind her.

“Hi, Clarke,” she said tentatively. 

“Lexa...holy shit…hi,” Clarke stammered. “Wow, I don’t know what to say—how are you?” She stood and hugged Lexa awkwardly, both of them longing to sink into the embrace, but holding back for appearances’ sake. Clarke tore her eyes away from Lexa and addressed the now very-confused man at the table. “Finn, hon, this is Lexa, my old college roommate—really, my best friend from college.”

Recognition dawned on his face, and he hopped up to shake hands with Lexa. “Wait, you’re _the_ Lexa? Clarke’s told me some of her stories about your college days. I’m Finn, her boyfriend.”

Lexa barely managed to keep from clenching her fist at the word “boyfriend.” _Of course she has a boyfriend, why wouldn’t she? I’m surprised she’s not married by now._ “Oh!” She turned and took Costia’s hand. “This is my girlfriend, Costia.” Costia smiled in greeting. 

“It’s nice to finally meet you, Clarke, Lexa’s talked about you, too.”

Clarke took in the other woman as they shook hands. She was tall and slender, with long dark wavy hair—a deeper shade than Lexa’s—a flawless, vaguely Mediterranean complexion, rich, brown eyes, and cheekbones that rivaled Lexa’s own. The burgundy tunic dress she wore over dark brown leggings and boots accentuated her figure. She was stunning. Clarke felt an uncomfortable sensation that might have been jealousy stir in her gut.

“Lexa…what are you doing here…” Clarke was still a little flustered.

Lexa gestured toward their seats at the bar. “Oh, we just stopped in for a drink.”

“Lexa’s not a huge fan of beer, and this place does a good Manhattan,” Costia confided.

“Really?” _Lexa not like beer? That’s new._ “No, but, I meant _here_ here—in DC here.” She mentally smacked herself. _So articulate, Griffin._ “The last I heard, you were living in Atlanta, near your dad.”

Finn spoke up. “Hey, it sounds like you and Lexa have a lot to catch up on—” to Lexa and Costia “—why don’t you join us? We’re just hanging out, we don’t have any particular plans tonight. I’d love to get to know Clarke’s best friend.”

 _Shit._ “Oh, we couldn’t impose—” “Finn, I’m sure they have other plans—”

“That sounds like fun,” Costia said pleasantly. “We weren’t doing anything special either, just going to shoot some pool.”

“Pool?” A grin split Finn’s face. He turned to Clarke, “Hon, you love pool!” To Costia, “Why don’t we join you instead?”

*********

An hour and a half later, Clarke was certain she had died and gone to hell. Her body, at least, felt like it was burning. She’d taken off her brown corduroy jacket, but it hadn’t done much to cool her down. She realized she was drinking more and faster than she normally would, but she hadn’t really reckoned on Lexa fucking Woods walking back into her life tonight and the implications thereof. It had been almost seven years since she saw her last, probably at least five since they’d last talked, after Raven’s accident. _And she still looks damn good._ Clarke wasn’t sure whether she wanted to fight her or…. _Don’t finish that thought, Griffin._

It didn’t help that she had to watch Lexa lean over the table every third turn, her biceps flexing as she lined up her shot and her jeans hugging her tight little ass as she stretched out over the felt. Lexa had long since stripped off her dark green v-neck sweater in favor of the black t-shirt she wore underneath. It wasn’t that the shirt was _tight_ , but it molded lightly to Lexa’s chest and reminded Clarke all too well of the tempting curves beneath. 

Clarke’s physical reaction to Lexa’s body was only part of the problem, though. It wasn’t even her stray touches over Costia’s hands or hips (although if Clarke was being honest, that was also sheer torture to watch). No, the larger problem was that Lexa was being scrupulously civil and acting as if nothing was…off…between them. She smiled in the right places, even told a few funny stories, but even though Clarke felt Lexa’s eyes burning on her as she took her own shots, she refused to look Clarke in the eye and she mostly kept to the opposite side of the table. Clarke’s temper was starting to fray.

Costia finally sank the eight ball to win the game for their side, making the score 2 to 1 (and Clarke was reminded once again that Finn couldn’t shoot pool for shit). Lexa finished the rest of her beer— _not a huge fan of beer, my ass_ —and said she needed to use the restroom. She gave Costia a quick peck on the cheek. Clarke watched her intently as she moved off. She saw Lexa’s eyes darken in the the brief moment that their eyes finally met. She resisted the impulse to watch her walk away and instead drained the rest of her own beer.

“Hey, sweetie, I’m going to go order us some more drinks and maybe hit the restroom, too. Why don’t you and Costia play the next game, Lexa and I can sit this one out.”

He kissed the top of her head. “Sounds good. Can you get me another of those IPAs?”

Clarke nodded and walked out of the poolroom and into the bar, but instead of stopping at the counter to order, she stormed into the restroom instead. Lexa had just washed her hands and was drying them on a paper towel.

“What the _fuck_ , Lexa?!”

Lexa wheeled and froze at the sight of a clearly incensed Clarke Griffin. On one hand, the almost-visible steam coming out of Clarke’s ears made her want to take a step back. On the other, Clarke’s heaving bosom and the flush of color down her throat made Lexa want to shove her against the wall and do something…entirely different. She held her ground. “Clarke. What’s the problem?”

“ _Problem??_ ” Clarke stalked into the restroom. “My _problem_ is that you’re acting like everything’s fine, but I haven’t heard from you in more than _five years!_ You just walked out and left me hanging, and now you’re acting like nothing’s wrong, like nothing ever happened.”

“As far as Costia and _Finn_ know, nothing did! Nothing did actually happen, did it?” Lexa retorted.

“Yeah, well, I can’t pretend as well as you can, I _kissed_ you, I wanted more than that, it was _something_ for me!” 

_What?_ “Maybe I’m not pretending! Maybe it was just a stupid moment, and it didn’t mean anything! Maybe I don’t want to be your ‘college experiment,’ Clarke!”

“Dammit, is that all you think it was? It— _you_ —weren’t just some whim. Yeah, I thought I was straight, but then I had these feelings for you, and it made me rethink _everything_ , and that night…it all _finally_ made sense. Do you have any idea what that’s like?”

“Who do you think you’re talking to, Clarke?” Lexa snapped. Clarke winced to herself. _Shit, she’s right, I walked right into that_. “I mean, what—do I get a toaster oven now?” Lexa hated herself for saying it even as the words left her mouth.

“Fuck you!”

Lexa started to lose her own temper. “Goddammit, all right, _no_ , it wasn’t nothing,” she almost shouted, before pulling herself back in check. “You think it’s _easy_ for me to stand here and keep myself together when your—your shirt is open down to _there_ ,” she gestured at Clarke’s white button-down, “and I can see down your cleavage every time you take a shot, and those…those fucking buttons look like they’re about to _pop_ —”

Just then they heard a toilet flush. One of the stall doors swung open and an embarrassed woman tiptoed out. Clarke and Lexa glared at each other, tension mounting, while the stranger quickly washed her hands. “ _Sorry_ ,” she mouthed as she scurried out of the room.

Clarke bit back her anger. “Lexa…dammit, what happened? You owe me an explanation. I wanted to talk—I thought we were _going_ to talk—but you just blew me off, and then you disappeared.”

 _Don’t look at the sorrow in her eyes._ “Yeah, I’m real sorry my dad’s stroke got in the way of our social agenda,” Lexa said sarcastically. “I didn’t exactly have a lot of time after that.” 

“ _Bullshit_ , Lexa! I have no illusions that it’s not hard—I’ve had patients, I’ve seen it. And I know _you_ , and I know how to read what you’re not saying, and if half of what you said earlier tonight is true, you’ve been through hell. But it didn’t have to be that way,” Clarke spat furiously. “You didn’t have to take all of that on alone. I would have done anything— _anything_ —to help you. All you had to do was talk to me.” Lexa gave ground as Clarke relentlessly crowded her backward, until her hips collided against the bathroom vanity. Her breath hitched. Clarke trapped her in place, her body pressing into Lexa’s personal space and her hands braced on the vanity on either side of Lexa’s hips. Lexa’s heart raced at Clarke’s very _nearness_. “Maybe I’m a hypocrite for not realizing my feelings and acting on them sooner, but you’re a _liar_ , Lexa! I think you’re lying to me, and you’re lying to yourself. You ran away from me. You ran from _us!_ ”

“There was no _us_ , Clarke!” Lexa finally exploded. “I remember that night at the bar, you pushed me _away!_ And that morning…you wouldn’t look at me, you wanted to ‘talk’…you were about to push me away again, and I couldn’t—I couldn’t _bear_ it.”

Clarke’s eyes searched Lexa’s countenance and saw the heartbreak etched there. “Goddammit, Lexa,” she whispered. She raised both of her hands to cradle Lexa’s face and crushed her mouth against Lexa’s in a searing kiss. Lexa’s eyes fluttered shut. Her synapses shorted at the warm pressure of Clarke’s lips on hers, the faint flavor of her lip gloss. She gasped at the sensation. Clarke ran her tongue over the plump fullness of Lexa’s lower lip and pressed the kiss deeper. Recovering from the immediate shock, Lexa’s hands crept up to brace, trembling, against Clarke’s elbows, holding her in place as she sank into the welcoming warmth of Clarke’s mouth. When Clarke finally pulled back for air, Lexa fell forward, off balance, chasing her lips.

Clarke’s heart beat a staccato cadence and her breathing was ragged. She smoothed Lexa’s hair back and stared directly into her perilously dark eyes. “Lexa,” she said urgently, “that morning—I wasn’t going to push you away. I was going to tell you I loved you. That I was _in_ love with you.” Lexa sucked in a breath. Clarke detected the precise moment that her words registered. Lexa’s eyes widened and her mouth worked soundlessly. Tears shimmered faintly, but didn’t fall. And then Lexa surged against Clarke, pushing her back, stumbling, against the bathroom stall, and they were kissing again, a feverish onslaught of wet tongues and teeth and aching. Vaguely processing that they were in a very public forum ( _a bathroom, Woods? Cliché much?_ ), Lexa maneuvered Clarke into one of the stalls. She scrabbled at the door lock and pushed Clarke against the stall door, pressing their bodies flush from chest to thigh. She sank her hands into Clarke’s thick golden waves and kept kissing her, kissing her, as if she were finally telling her that _one thing_ that mattered most in the world.

Clarke’s hands strayed down Lexa’s back and gripped her ass, pulling her hips tightly against Clarke’s own and sending a jolt directly to her core. She nipped lightly at Lexa’s bottom lip and smirked at Lexa’s muted yelp, gently sucking the soreness away with a languid slide of her tongue. Lexa’s lips drifted lower, layering kisses along Clarke’s chin, the hinge of her jaw, and down the column of her throat.

Clarke moaned at the sensation and let her head thud back against the door. Her senses were overwhelmed with _Lexa_ : the gentle suction of her lips against her clavicle, the scorch of her hands roaming down the outside of Clarke’s breasts and ribs and edging back up under her shirt, heating the bare skin, the mingled scent of her shampoo and hair and skin. She wanted to feel her everywhere.

Lexa mouthed lower, across the swell of Clarke’s breasts. She whined against the barrier of Clarke’s shirt. Clarke lifted her own hands to frantically work at the buttons, but Lexa impatiently tugged the edges of the shirt apart, causing a button to shoot off and ping against the wall. She spread Clarke’s shirt open. “Told you they were ready to pop,” Lexa breathed against the lace of Clarke’s bra. Clarke snorted and swatted at her gently, then gasped and arched her back when Lexa’s mouth latched onto a straining nipple through the fabric. Lexa ghosted her hands over Clarke’s sides and chest, teasing lightly with her fingernails to raise gooseflesh and make Clarke shiver at her touch.

“ _Jesus_ , Lexa,” Clarke groaned. She tugged Lexa’s mouth back to her for a torrid, sloppy kiss. Lexa’s head was so full of Clarke that she wasn’t sure of her own name. Her hands fell to Clarke’s hips, and she shifted her pelvis to slot her thigh in between Clarke’s. She rocked her thigh up into her experimentally, and Clarke nearly shouted against Lexa’s mouth at the firm pressure right where she needed it most.

The shock and the sudden noise, paradoxically, snapped the cloud of lust between them. Clarke roused from her Lexa-induced stupor and drew back. She placed her hand on Lexa’s sternum to put some distance between them. Lexa’s kiss-swollen mouth, arousal-flushed face, and disheveled hair mirrored Clarke’s own. Clarke wanted nothing more than to enthusiastically pursue this trajectory to its inevitable, leg-trembling conclusion, but her conscience had awoken and she knew it was wrong. “Lexa…what are we _doing?_ ” she panted in a low voice, gesturing wildly at the stall, the lip gloss smear on Lexa’s face, her own shirt hanging open. “We shouldn’t—we _can’t_ —do this. I am _so_ attracted to you,” she swallowed and clawed her fingers through her hair, “but I’m with Finn. This isn’t who I am—who _we_ are. I won’t cheat on him. And what about _Costia?_ ”

Lexa braced both hands against the stall and hung her head. “I know. I know, I _know_ ,” she whispered desperately. “I never meant for this to happen—never in a million years thought it _would_.” She straightened up and pointed vaguely at Clarke’s chest and looked quickly away. “You should, um….”

Clarke couldn’t believe she still had the capacity to blush. “Right, yeah.” She adjusted her bra and hastily rebuttoned the remaining buttons on her shirt. 

Lexa’s thoughts raced for a moment, and then she looked at Clarke intently. “I just have to know, though, Clarke—do you love him? Is he good to you?”

Clarke’s shoulders slumped and she looked back at Lexa, a little sadly, a little sweetly. “Yeah, I do,” she said with a quiet smile. “He makes me happy, I think we’re good together. I can see a future with him.”

Lexa nodded in acceptance and understanding. “Yeah,” she said softly. “Me, too. I feel the same way about Costia. She’s…special. I don’t want to lose her, either.”

They straightened their clothes and tamed their hair in silence and eased the stall open. The coast was still clear. Clarke stood there lost in thought while Lexa splashed some water on her face to reduce the color. 

“Lexa—” she reached out her hand toward Lexa’s arm, but thought better of it, “this can’t happen again,” she said regretfully. “I wish things had been different years ago, but I don’t—I don’t think I can see you for a while.” She exhaled heavily.

“I know,” Lexa said softly. “You’ll always be my friend, Clarke, my _best_ friend. But I don’t think I can see you, either, and not want…you know.” _More. All of you._ “It wouldn’t be fair to Costia, or Finn, or you and me, for that matter. I need some distance, too.” She waved her hand at the door. “Look, I should go, we’ve been in here a while and Costia and I should probably get going. I’d, um, hug you, but…that’s probably not a good idea.”

Clarke gave a brittle laugh and wiped a tear away.

“Bye, Clarke.”

She slipped out the door. By the time Clarke gathered her composure and returned to the poolroom with fresh drinks for herself and Finn, Lexa and Costia had left. “Sorry to take so long, the bar was backed up,” Clarke explained vaguely. 

Finn waved it off. “Too bad. Lexa wasn’t feeling well, so she and Costia left.” He sipped his beer and added thoughtfully, “You know, I don’t get how you and Lexa were friends—you’re so different. She’s so quiet.” 

Clarke didn’t have a response. But later that night, when she shared her body with Finn, it wasn’t his lips she burned for or the caress of his hands that she craved.


	13. You Oughta Know

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry/ not sorry

*****June 2018*****

Anya lined up her shot and sank the eight ball with authority. She straightened up and high-fived Lexa, then smirked at Raven. “Who’s schooling who now?”

Raven threw her a dirty look in return. She leaned back against the wall and crossed her arms. “Whatever. We won the first round. Best two out of three, it’s still anybody’s game.”

“ _Whatever_ ,” Anya mocked. “You just can’t stand it when I prove you wrong.”

Raven pushed off the wall and stepped closer to Anya. “Mmph. Such big _talk_.” She pulled a twenty-dollar bill out of her wallet and held it up. “How about you put your money where your mouth is?” She slapped the bill down on the table. “Twenty bucks says you’re still going _down_ ,” she said, pointedly letting her eyes drift down Anya’s body.

Anya grinned wolfishly. She fished out some bills and covered Raven’s wager. “I’m going to enjoy making you eat those _words_. Hey, Lexa,” she called over her shoulder, “stakes just went up.” 

Lexa stood next to Clarke watching their byplay. She sighed in resignation at Anya’s statement and dug a twenty out of her own pocket to match the bet. She noted the sparkle in Clarke’s eyes as Clarke laid her own money down. “This isn’t going to end well for us, is it?” she remarked wryly.

Clarke’s grin spread. “Nope.” 

Anya slapped Raven lightly across the chest with the triangle. “Rack ‘em, bitch!” 

As Raven arranged the balls, she caught Clarke’s eye and shot her a wink. Clarke responded with a small smile and a brief nod. She watched impassively as Lexa broke, refusing to allow herself to be distracted by way Lexa’s shorts edged up the back of her thighs as she bent over the table, or the adorable concentration on her face as she took her shot. She assessed Raven and Anya’s play with a critical eye as they took their turns, each of them making a ball or two. Raven was a solid player; truthfully, she and Anya were pretty evenly matched. And Lexa…Clarke was secretly impressed with Lexa’s play; her shots had kept Clarke on her toes. In actuality, they were all pretty decent players. But Clarke was better.

On her turn, Clarke stepped to the table and chewed her lower lip as she mapped out her game plan. She dropped the first ball and moved to the next shot she’d left herself. While she focused on running out the table, Raven sidled over to Anya. “So,” she said casually, her dark eyes dancing, “did I mention that Clarke used to shoot pool in a league?”

Anya’s mouth fell open. “You _played_ me, Reyes!?” 

Raven preened. Lexa was far too focused on Clarke to pay attention to their repartee. She watched in fascination as Clarke moved gracefully around the table, hitting some shots with emphasis and others with finesse. 

Clarke lined up her next-to-last shot. It was in an awkward position for a lefty and she started to reach for the bridge, but she felt Lexa’s eyes on her and thought better of it. A cocky smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. It wasn’t actually a difficult shot down the rail, but it looked cooler this way. She kept one foot on the floor, balanced her ass on the edge of the table, and slipped the cue stick behind her back. The unusual angle forced her to arch her back and thrust her chest forward, a posture she deliberately exaggerated upon catching Lexa’s eye. Keeping her eyes glued to Lexa’s, she knocked in the ball without looking down at the table. She hopped down from the table slowly and put a little extra swagger in her step and sway in her hips as she took her final shot on the eight. Game over. Lexa’s mouth ran dry. 

It was a little after nine when the alumni funds finally ran out. Without the attraction of free food and drink, the crowd gradually started to dwindle. Raven, still on a high from her victories at the pool table, insisted on dragging the whole crew back to the dorm for the “afterparty.” “Come on, Octavia—how often do you get to stay up and party with your friends _without the kids_?” she cajoled.

“Ugh, _fine_ , Rae,” Octavia gave in. “I am so going to regret this tomorrow,” she muttered. 

“And since I’m so flush with cash,” Raven tossed a sweet smirk at Anya, who made a face in reply, “I’ll even cover the booze. Meet you guys back in the room in twenty.” They left the bar and most of the group made their way for the dorm, while Raven looped her arm through Anya’s and drew her, grumbling goodnaturedly, down the street to the nearby convenience store. 

*********

Raven lumbered into the room with Anya in tow. Anya had a twelve-pack of beer under one arm and they both carried heavy-looking plastic bags in each hand. They dumped them unceremoniously on the floor with a clank. Raven rustled through one of her bags and produced a bottle of Boone’s Farm and a bottle of Mad Dog. She held them aloft triumphantly. “Who’s ready to kick it old school?”

A groan went up from the group. Octavia and Lincoln snuggled on Octavia’s bed, while the others lounged in the desk chairs or on the floor with their backs propped against the beds. Clarke flopped her head back against the side of the mattress. “ _Why_ , Raven?” she whined.

Raven dismissed their complaints. “We’re reliving our foolish youth. Besides,” she added practically, “we couldn’t drive to the liquor store.” She dug through another bag in search of cups and juice for a mixer. She began pouring drinks and passing them around. Anya just rolled her eyes and deliberately popped the cap on a beer instead.

Once everyone had a drink in hand, Raven badgered them into playing Never Have I Ever. 

“Oh my God, Rae, what are we, fifteen?” Octavia protested.

“What’s the matter, O, got stuff to hide?” Raven teased back. She started them off. “Never have I ever…been naked in public.” Everyone drank. Raven snickered. “Third floor, should’ve known that was an easy one.”

The questions moved around the circle. About half the group had never dyed their hair (“What hair?” deadpanned Lincoln). A few of them had tried skydiving and hanggliding (“It’s such a fucking rush!” Jasper gushed). Only Anya and Raven had been in handcuffs, and the whole group laughed as they deliberately refused to look at each other when they drank. Ontari was the only one who’d never smoked pot. Clarke arched an eyebrow at Lexa in curiosity. Lexa just gave her a small smile in return. 

Monty struggled to come up with a question. “Never have I ever…gotten a tattoo.” He and Clarke were the only ones to abstain. Clarke’s eyes widened when Lexa took a drink. _Where? I would have seen one on her arms, her legs…._ Her mind helpfully supplied thoughts of _tracing my tongue over artwork inked on her warm, bare skin…._ She squirmed uncomfortably and almost missed Ontari’s next question.

“Never have I ever…had sex with a woman.” Everyone in the room except Octavia and Ontari groaned and drank. Lexa almost choked on her drink when she saw Clarke join in. _Who? When?_ Her eyes bored into Clarke’s. Clarke’s face heated, but she returned Lexa’s stare with a bold gaze of her own. 

Jasper mused, “Never have I ever…kissed anyone in this room.” About half the group took a sip. Clarke and Lexa’s faces each burned as they drank. Raven’s ears perked up. She eyed the two of them thoughtfully and nudged Octavia.

“Ok, my turn,” Raven began. “Never have I ever…kissed my _roommate_.” Clarke interrupted her as she finished the sentence.

“Oh, look, Rae, there’s ten fingers down!” Clarke held up her hands. “Game over!” She smirked sweetly and downed the rest of her cup as the loser. 

Raven scowled, foiled for the moment. “This is not over, Griffin,” she warned teasingly. She got up and headed down the hall for the bathroom, followed in short order by Octavia. With Raven momentarily gone, Anya stretched her legs out on Raven’s bed and nursed her beer. Jasper fished a joint out of his shirt pocket and waggled his eyebrows at Monty. Monty’s eyes lit up, and they moved to the corner of the room and wrestled the window sash up to help dissipate the smoke. 

Lexa levered herself to her feet to get a refill. She saw that Clarke was empty as well and wordlessly held out her hand for her cup. She bit her lip at the sudden tingle when their fingers brushed against the rim. She freshened both their drinks and handed Clarke’s back to her. Instead of resuming her original spot across from Clarke, though, she sat down beside her. Despite the friendly distance between them, Lexa swore that Clarke’s body heat was permeating her space. She itched to take Clarke’s hand in her own and tangle their fingers together. She noticed Clarke’s nostrils flare with the tiniest of shudders and wondered if she was similarly affected. 

Clarke bumped Lexa with her shoulder. “Weed, huh, Woods?” She said with a mischievous sidelong glance. “You delinquent.” 

Lexa lifted one shoulder nonchalantly. “When in Amsterdam…. Besides, Costia had some artsy friends.” 

Clarke snorted a little and tried to smile. “Costia,” she sighed quietly, her voice trailing off. 

Lexa leaned closer. In a low voice that only Clarke could hear, she murmured, “Women, Clarke?”

Clarke did shudder then, at the resonant timbre of Lexa’s voice. She turned toward Lexa and the bright green glitter of her eyes stoked the barely banked fire smouldering in Clarke’s belly. “Yeah,” she replied in an equally low voice. “Niylah, from my pool league. A couple of others.” She licked her lips nervously and added with a meaningful note in her voice, “None of them were serious.”

Lexa blinked and looked into the distance, processing the import of Clarke’s words. The gentle, tentative touch of Clarke’s hand coming to rest on her own startled her out of her reverie. She looked at Clarke with wide eyes and read the unspoken question in the answering deep blue. _Is this ok?_ Lexa breathed deeply and gave a slow nod. A tiny smile crept over her face. Their comfortable silence ended abruptly when Raven and Octavia barged back into the room, ready for fresh shenanigans. Clarke pulled her hand away, not completely, but enough that their pinkies just grazed each other.

Half an hour later, they were well into a round of Truth or Dare. Octavia had recklessly accepted Jasper’s dare to hit the joint; she leaned back against Lincoln’s chest with his arms wrapped around her, pleasantly mellow. Monty, meanwhile, had nearly wet himself in terror while carrying out Raven’s dare to give Anya a lap dance. Anya, for her part, sat stoically on the edge of the bed trying valiantly to keep her lips from twitching into a smile at Monty’s chagrin and wild gyrations. The evil gleam in her eye indicated that Raven would pay later.

Having witnessed the dares, Ontari chose truth. Octavia grinned. “Ok, what’s the most daring place you’ve had sex?” Jasper started to open his mouth and Octavia cut him off. “Jasper, I swear to God, if you say, ‘in the ass,’ I’m going to smack you.” He deflated with a sigh.

Ontari blushed bright red. “Um…I guess the University President’s front lawn?” Jaws dropped around the room. “It was in grad school! It was dark! It’s…a big lawn….”

Clarke grinned and held up her hand for a high five. “Public sex, Ontari! I _like_ it!” Ontari hesitantly slapped Clarke’s hand and returned a shy smile. 

“Ok, Clarke, you’re up,” Raven said. “Truth or dare?”

“Oh, truth,” Clarke said without thinking.

Raven rubbed her hands together. “What the hell happened between you and Lexa?” The room fell silent. Clarke felt, rather than saw, Lexa tense next to her.

“You know what, I changed my mind. I’ll take the dare,” Clarke stuttered.

“Aww, no takebacks, Griffin! Come on, spill!” Raven whined. Clarke set her jaw stubbornly and shook her head. Raven was poised to harass her further until she saw the frown on Anya’s face and her pointed glance at Lexa’s anxious expression. Raven grudgingly backed down. “Fine. But it’s gonna have to be a serious dare for backing out like that.” She thought for a moment then her face brightened deviously. “You have to do the triathalon.”

The others burst into excited chatter. “Raven,” Clarke protested. “That’s ridiculous. You’re not serious.”

“Triathalon or truth, Clarke,” Raven said mutinously. “What’s it going to be?”

Clarke pressed her pinky a little more firmly against Lexa’s and closed her eyes in frustration. “All right. The triathalon.” She scrambled to her feet, a little unsteady from the combination of beer and several rounds of Mad Dog cocktails. “But I’m not swimming the Dell. I’m kind of drunk and you know I can’t swim very well anyway. And that water is nasty.” 

Raven conceded the point. “Ok. But you still have to streak and jump the wall.” 

They all refilled their drinks and traipsed over to the quad. Everyone except Clarke made their way to the far end and sat down on the brick staircase. It was close to midnight, but there were still a fair number of people in the vicinity, some just passing through, and others congregated in small clumps to enjoy the early summer night. Clarke, meanwhile, walked to the opposite end of the field. Her jitters seemed to build with every step. Sure, she’d streaked before—but never solo. And never with an anticipating audience. An audience that included Lexa. This was absolutely not how she’d envisioned being naked in front of Lexa (because she _had_ admittedly envisioned—ok, fantasized about—such a scenario). _Dammit, Griffin, why couldn’t you pay attention to your big mouth? Why are you letting Raven get to you? Why are you even doing this? *You know why.*_

At least her t-shirt and shorts were easy to remove and replace. She quickly stripped off her clothes—remembering, this time, to carry them with her—and took off at a trot. Running without a sports bra was not exactly comfortable for someone as well-endowed as Clarke, and she cursed Raven yet again after a few steps. The small clusters of alums dotted around the quad sent up cheers as whistles as she passed. At first, Clarke awkwardly tried to cover herself, but after the second occurrence, she abandoned the pretense. _You know what, I’m forty, and I still look good. Fuck it._ She gave the next batch of vocal spectators a cheeky grin and raised her arms over her head like a victorious athlete as she ran by.

Lexa shifted nervously on the hard brick as she and her friends waited for Clarke to appear. This really was not how she’d envisioned seeing Clarke naked. Not that she’d thought about it. She hadn’t. Not at all. Faint cheers grew louder and closer, and then Clarke broke into sight. Their whole group leaped to their feet, clapping and egging her on. Lexa got up, too, clapping a little woodenly. _You really shouldn’t look…it’s a violation…this isn’t how you wanted it…._ But Lexa couldn’t help herself. A flood of arousal settled between her legs at the bounce of Clarke’s full breasts, _their soft weight bouncing smoothly against mine as my body moves against hers…._ She jerked her attention away and focused on Clarke’s face, blotched with pink and huffing for breath, _just like she would be under me when I stroke her to release and her mouth falls open in a soundless cry…._

“Fuck,” Lexa hissed. She tried to force herself to look anywhere else as Clarke finally reached the end and turned her back to put her clothes on. But when Clarke bent to pull her underwear and shorts up her legs, the two dimples just above her ass drew Lexa’s eye like a laser. She began to sweat at the prospect of _my hands spanning her hips and my thumbs pressing into those little divots and the breathless noise she’d make when I slide my thigh between hers…._

 _Jesus Christ, Lexa!_ The others made their way to Clarke—who was thankfully now clothed and catching her breath—but Lexa allowed herself a moment to let her heart rate settle before she joined them. 

Octavia fist-bumped Clarke. “That was badass, Clarke, I can’t believe you went through with it.”

“Yeah, Clarke, nice rack!” Jasper added. Lexa really couldn’t disagree. Lincoln swatted Jasper lightly upside the head. “Ow! What?!”

Even Ontari admitted that Clarke had finally successfully streaked the quad.

Amidst the talking, Clarke looked at Lexa with a searching gaze. Lexa’s ears burned, but she didn’t look away, and the corner of Clarke’s mouth quirked up.

“All right, all right—that’s one down,” Raven decreed. “But you still have to jump the wall.”

“How are we going to know if she does it?” Monty asked. “We can’t all go, we’ll get caught.” 

Raven frowned at the dilemma. Lexa cleared her throat and stepped forward. “I’ll go. I’ll be a witness.” She ignored Anya’s smug grin and Raven’s smirk, and turned to Clarke. “Is that cool?”

“Yeah. Yeah, that’s fine,” Clarke said hastily. “Ready?” 

Lexa said yes, and they left their friends behind and began the half-mile walk to the governor’s mansion. “Everything all right, Lex?” Clarke asked.

“Huh? Of course,” Lexa said, puzzled.

“It’s just…your face was really red, and you seemed…flustered.”

“No!” Lexa started to protest, then thought better of it. _Dammit, Lexa, why don’t you just tell her the truth?_ “Ok, yes. A little.” _A lot_. She exhaled. “You always make me flustered,” she admitted sheepishly.

Clarke smirked. “Especially when I’m naked.”

Lexa huffed and looked away. “Maybe.” Clarke laughed at her discomfiture and hooked her arm through Lexa’s. Lexa looked down in surprise, but Clarke didn’t saything. They walked in companionable silence for a while. Clarke seemed to be working something over in her mind. She finally spoke.

“Lexa…what happened with Costia?”

Lexa let out a long breath. “It wasn’t anything terrible, really. We just wanted different things.”

*****September 2012*****

“Costia, have you seen my hiking socks? Those quarter-length wool ones?” Lexa rummaged through her sock drawer with no luck. “Cos?” She opened the closet and pawed through the hamper, knowing the missing socks weren’t there, but it never hurt to look. “Cos?” Still no answer. Lexa frowned. She walked out of the bedroom and down the hall to the kitchen. Costia sat at the table staring blankly into a half-drunk cup of coffee. 

“Costia? Hey, have you seen my—”

“No, Lexa, I don’t know where your damn socks are!” Costia snapped, finally looking up at Lexa. Despite her angry tone, her eyes seemed empty.

“O-kay,” Lexa said cautiously. She never quite knew what to do when Costia got into these moods, and it seemed like there had been more and more of them of late. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Costia said flatly.

“Well, obviously there’s _something_ , you just bit my head off over a pair of socks,” Lexa tried again. 

“You know what, just forget it.” Costia pushed up from the table and went to the sink to pour out the rest of her coffee.

“Come on, Cos, my flight leaves in—” she glanced at the clock, “six hours, and I don’t want to go off and leave you mad. What is it?”

“Well, that’s just it, isn’t it?” Costia said bitterly. “You’re leaving. Again.”

Lexa rolled her eyes and shuffled a hand through her hair. _Here we go_. “Cos, it’s just for a week. You know I wouldn’t go if we had anyone on staff with experience in the region—”

<>“No, I _don’_ know that!” Costia said with anger. “You told me you were done with the travel, that you were ready to settle down, to finally be _present_ —but yet here we are again, you running off.”

“That’s not fair,” Lexa said hotly, starting to lose her own temper. “It’s totally different now, this is just a once-in-a-while thing.”

“Right,” Costia scoffed. “You say that now, but how long’s it going to be before you’re gone again, and I’m here, alone, missing you.” 

“Dammit, Costia, I changed jobs for _you_! I asked for a desk assignment because of _you_! For _us_!”

“I never asked you to do that!”

“The _hell_ you didn’t!” Lexa spat. “All the sighs, the complaints, the passive-aggressive crap—you wanted me to give it up, so I did! You never used to mind. When we got together you even said you _liked_ that I was away sometimes, that you needed to have space to yourself.”

“You went to South America for a _month_!”

“That was _one_ time, and it was _four years_ ago!”

Costia slumped back against the kitchen counter. “I guess I thought that at some point, you’d change,” she said sadly. “Let me into your life more. Maybe even want me to come with you. But you never once did. You’ve always kept pieces of you at arms length from me.”

“Cos, it’s my _job_ , I couldn’t bring you along while I’m working,” Lexa tried to reason.

“Carl does. Jessica has. Hell, you told me Brian Newell takes his whole family sometimes.”

Lexa frowned. “So you’re mad because I never took you on _vacation_ while I was working?”

Costia sighed. “No, Lex, that’s not it. I never cared about going to Madrid or Norway or wherever. I’m upset because you never wanted me _with you_. I thought things would be different, better, after you took the new position, but they’re not going to be, are they?”

Lexa shook her head in confusion. “I don’t understand. Of course I want to be with you.”

“That’s not what I’m saying.” Costia paused for a moment as if she was wrestling with something. She looked Lexa in the eye and blurted, “Would you want her with you?”

“Her? Her who? Babe, do you think I’m _cheating_ —”

“Clarke.”

Lexa’s mouth snapped shut. 

<>“Would you want Clarke with you?” _Of course I would_. Lexa’s eyes widened at the sudden thought. Costia nodded, as if confirming something to herself. “That’s what I thought. I heard you, you know,” she said quietly. “That night in the bathroom.”

Lexa’s face turned white. “Costia, we didn’t—”

“I know.” Costia smiled wanly. Lexa sank heavily into a dining chair, stunned by the revelation. “I must have walked in at the end. I heard what you said about me. It’s why I didn’t just leave. Well, that, and the fact that you never made any effort to see her again. And I loved you. I kept thinking, _maybe_ ….” She shook her head. “But I see, finally, that that’s never going to change. You’ll never be able to give me all of you.” She wiped tears from her eyes.

“Costia, baby, I love you,” Lexa protested, reaching out a hand to her. Her own cheeks were wet. 

Costia pulled back. “I know you do. But you’re never going to love me the way that you love her,” she said through her tears. “And it’s not enough. I deserve someone who will.” She turned away and fumbled for her purse. “I need to go,” she said thickly. “I’ll have my stuff out of here by the time you get back.” Lexa just sat numbly at the table, tears streaming down her face. Costia walked back over to her, pressed a kiss to her fingertips, and lightly touched them to Lexa’s forehead. “Goodbye, Lexa.”

*****June 2018*****

“Lexa…I’m so sorry. I don’t know what to say,” Clarke said in shock.

“It’s ok, Clarke. It was my fault, not yours,” Lexa said simply. 

“But that she _knew_ …that whole time…I’m just—I never wanted to do that to someone else,” Clarke whispered in horror. 

Lexa squeezed Clarke’s arm, still looped through her own. “I hate that it hurt her, too. But she was right. I was never completely present for her—I could never give her all of me.” _Because you have my heart._

“After she left…did you ever,” Clarke steeled herself. “Did you ever think about me? About calling?”

 _Only all the time._ “Yeah. But you were with Finn, I didn’t have the right—”

Clarke gave a choked laugh that sounded more like a sob. “ _Finn_. God, Lexa, we were so stupid.”

They finally reached the governor’s mansion. A ten-foot high brick wall enclosed the house, outbuildings, and extensive gardens. It was dark in the historic district without modern streetlights. Spotlights lit up the front of the mansion, but the moon offered the only other illumination. 

“You know, we don’t have to do this, Clarke,” Lexa said. “Raven’s never going to know.”

“Oh, this is happening,” Clarke said with determination. “I don’t welsh on bets or dares.”

Lexa shrugged and looked at the wall dubiously. “All right, then. How are we going to get over the wall, though?”

“There’s a place where it dips down on this side,” Clarke said, leading her about fifty yards down the wall toward a section of garden. 

“Have you done this before?” Lexa asked in surprise. 

“Yeah, with Becky and one of her track teammates. It must have been while you were doing study abroad, or you’d probably have been there. This is it.” The wall was still about seven feet high, but much more manageable. “Here, boost me up, and then I’ll give you a hand.”

“Wait, Clarke—what if we get caught?” Lexa hissed anxiously.

Clarke waved her hand dismissively. “I don’t think they have a ton of security—there were three of us the other time, and nothing happened. Come on.”

Lexa bent down and cupped her hands for Clarke’s foot and helped catapult her to the top of the wall. Clarke perched atop it with one leg on each side and leaned down. “Take my hand.” With Clarke’s soft palm in hers, Lexa almost forgot what they were doing. “Lexa! Hurry up!” Clarke hissed. 

“I’m trying!” With Clarke’s assistance, Lexa scrambled awkwardly up and over the wall. They grinned at each other through the darkness. So far, so good.

“Ok, the maze is in the back.” The half-full moon cast enough light to make out where they were going, but it was still dark. Their feet crunched on the crushed oyster shell path as they hurried through the gardens. At last, they reached a dark wall of sculpted boxwoods about seven feet high. They clambered over the closed gate that blocked the entrance and entered the maze. The bushes were patchy in places, so it wasn’t terribly difficult to determine the correct direction, but their height blocked the light out further and made it harder to see. Clarke took Lexa’s hand and tugged her to the left. Lexa followed obediently, little caring where they ended up so long as she got to feel Clarke’s touch. They progressed deeper into the maze. A few wrong turns and backtracks later, they finally found themselves in a small clearing in the center with a few benches and potted plants. 

The adrenaline rush from the game made Lexa’s heart race, but she thought it might pound out of her chest when Clarke turned to her with exhilaration. Whatever Clarke was about to say died on her lips at the emotions she saw written on Lexa’s face, and she was suddenly all too aware of Lexa’s hand in hers and the faint gleam of green in the moonlight. Whether Clarke tugged Lexa’s hand or Lexa tugged Clarke’s was of no import ; they moved together slowly, inexorably, inevitably. This time when their lips finally met, it was soft, gentle, not the frantic urgency of twelve years ago. Lexa folded Clarke into her arms and kissed her slowly, taking her time, tangling her tongue with Clarke’s and learning the sweet flavor of her all over again. 

They broke apart with a breathy gasp, resting their foreheads against each other, skin heated and pulses hammering, still breathing each other’s air. Lexa saw a spark kindling in Clarke’s thunderously dark eyes, and then Clarke’s hand slid through the fine curls at the nape of Lexa’s neck, holding her in place, and Clarke’s mouth was back on hers, hot, eager, more insistent. Lexa felt an answering flame ignite between her thighs. Her hand drifted to the small of Clarke’s back and drew their hips and bellies together. She didn’t realize she’d unconsciously backed Clarke up until the back of Clarke’s legs collided with one of the benches and she broke the kiss with a tiny _oof._

They giggled a little, and Clarke sank onto the bench, drawing Lexa down on top of her. Lexa settled against Clarke’s soft curves with a contented sigh and resumed kissing her. Their bare legs tangled, and Lexa hummed appreciatively at the warm press of Clarke’s body against hers from ankles to thighs to breasts. Her mind clouded at the feel of Clarke everywhere. She lost track of time and gave herself over to the slide of Clarke’s tongue and the heat of Clarke’s hands edging up her back under her shirt. She nipped gently at Clarke’s lower lip and sucked an excruciatingly slow path of kisses along Clarke’s jaw and down the column of her neck, pausing to feel the rat-a-tat staccato of Clarke’s pulse against her tongue. Clarke hissed at the touch and pawed the back of Lexa’s shirt up with impatience. Lexa heeded her unspoken demand and raised herself up to her knees and took off her shirt. Clarke’s sudden inhale of breath sent a reckless wave through her, and she impulsively reached behind her back and unfastened her bra and let it fall slowly away. The paler flesh of her breasts stood out against the bikini tan line that Clarke longed to follow with her tongue.

Clarke felt liquid heat building between her legs. She groaned and dragged Lexa back down for another kiss, deeper and hungrier still than the last. She smoothed her hands over the unfettered expanse of Lexa’s back, feeling the play of the long muscles there. She slipped her hands around to her chest. Lexa shifted onto one elbow to allow her freer access, burning to feel the blistering touch of Clarke’s hands and mouth upon her. Clarke gently palmed a breast and traced patterns around the rosy nipple, so light at first as to almost be ticklish. Her eyes locked on Lexa’s fully blown pupils and trembling, kiss-swollen lips as she teased the stiff peak with ever-increasing pressure. She kept her eyes on Lexa’s as she leaned over and dropped gentle kisses over her breasts, through the shallow valley between them, and deeper, wetter kisses along the pliant underside, kisses she’d dreamed of for twenty years. 

Lexa’s breathing grew ragged. When Clarke finally captured Lexa’s taut nipple between her lips and swirled her tongue over it, she gave a guttural moan and arched into Clarke’s mouth.

“ _Jesus_ , Clarke!” She felt Clarke’s lips twitch into a smile against her breast as she suckled and licked. Lexa’s hand came up to tangle in Clarke’s hair and hold her in place.

“I’ve wanted to do this forever,” Clarke murmured wetly against her skin. “I think I _could_ do this forever.”

Lexa’s brain struggled to process the import of Clarke’s comment. She could barely form words. “Not fair. Wanna feel you, too.” She rolled Clarke fully onto her back again and raised up again until she was kneeling over Clarke’s thighs. She dropped her hands to the hem of Clarke’s t-shirt and looked hopefully at Clarke’s eyes, almost black and shimmering in the moonlight. Clarke nodded eagerly. “God, yes.” She lifted up onto her elbows to help Lexa remove her shirt. Instead of stripping it off quickly like Clarke expected—wanted—Lexa smirked wickedly. She bent down and slowly eased Clarke’s top upward an inch at a time, leaving a trail of searing kisses in her wake. _Tease me, will you?_

Clarke squirmed desperately at Lexa’s steady, unhurried pace. The heat of her hands and tongue and the visual of Lexa’s mouth working slowly upward with the occasional deeper suck that she knew would leave her mark was wrecking Clarke. She could feel the growing slickness between her thighs; her underwear was undoubtedly ruined. Lexa finally reached her destination and took pity on Clarke. She stripped Clarke’s shirt the rest of the way off and slid her hand behind Clarke’s back to unhook and peel away her bra. And then finally, _finally_ Clarke was bare to her touch and gaze.

“God, Clarke, you’re beautiful,” Lexa whispered reverently, pausing just to drink her in, and Clarke finally understood Octavia’s muttered comment about heart eyes so many years ago.

Lexa cupped Clarke’s breasts, fuller and heavier than her own, with both hands. She tormented the pink buds, first with a thumb, and then with her tongue, working them each in turn until they were swollen and shiny, and Clarke was writhing wordlessly beneath her. She kissed a path back up to Clarke’s mouth and lowered her body flush with Clarke’s. The intensity and heat of so much bare skin, the play of their hands, and the drag and catch of their breasts and sensitive nipples against each other electrified them both. Their kisses turned messier, needier, more urgent. Clarke’s hips ground up against Lexa’s center. Lexa moaned loudly and her hand strayed to grip Clarke’s ass.

“Lexa,” Clarke panted, “I need—”

Searing bright light suddenly flashed on, bathing them in a brilliant white glow. They shrieked and clutched each other, trying desperately to reclaim some modesty.

“Aren’t you ladies a little old for the triathalon?” asked a bemused voice behind the light. The flashlight lowered slightly, and once Lexa’s eyes adjusted she made out the figure of a genial security guard in his sixties.

Lexa dropped her head against Clarke’s shoulder in frustration. “You have _got_ to be fucking kidding me,” she whined under her breath. 

“I’ll just, ahem, give you two a minute and then help you find your way out,” the guard said with a hint of laughter in his voice. He discreetly turned his back. Clarke and Lexa retrieved their discarded clothes and dressed quickly, the moment clearly shattered. They meekly followed the guard as he led them to one of the service gates and unlocked it. Just before he let them out, he said with a grin, “We get this every year about this time when old students come back. If any of your friends are thinking about trying it, you might want to pass along that we’ve put in camera surveillance.” 

Clarke and Lexa hurried through the gate with bright red faces. They walked quickly to get away from the mansion in case the guard changed his mind about trespass charges. After a few blocks, they slowed to a normal pace.

“So….” Clarke said.

“That just happened.”

“Yeah.” They walked in silence for a few more minutes, each of them struggling with their own thoughts. 

Finally, Lexa said quietly, “Clarke…will you tell me what happened with Finn? I asked Raven,” she added quickly, “but she said I should hear it from you. And that I _should_ ask you.”

Clarke bit her lip. “Yeah,” she said pensively. She took a deep breath. “It turns out he wasn’t the person I thought he was.”

*****December 2011*****

Raven hefted the baseball bat and shambled to her front door. “Who the _fuck_ is banging on my door at eleven pm,” she growled. She peered through the peephole and pulled back with a frown. She leaned the bat in the corner beside the door and quickly undid the lock and deadbolt. “Clarke?” she said in confusion. “What the hell?”

Clarke stood on her doorstep showing almost no sign of having heard Raven. She was wearing thin pajama pants, flip flops, and a t-shirt, but no coat, despite the cold winter night. Her breath misted in front of her and she was shivering.

“Clarke!” Raven said sharply. She took her hand and pulled her into the apartment and closed the door. “Jesus, you’re freezing!” She took Clarke’s hands and rubbed some warmth back into them with her own. That seemed to jolt Clarke out of her fog.

“Hey, Raven,” she said weakly.

“Clarke, what’s going on? Where’s your coat? Are you ok?”

Clarke’s shoulders slumped. “Not really.”

Raven marched her into the living room and pushed her down onto the couch. She wrapped a blanket around Clarke’s shoulders. “Sit. I’m going to make some coffee, you look like you need it.” She emerged a few minutes later with two steaming cups and settled onto the sofa beside Clarke. Clarke was still shivering. She forced a cup into Clarke’s hands. “Drink,” she ordered, “and then tell me why you’re freezing your ass off at my front door in your pajamas in the middle of the night.”

Clarke sipped the hot liquid and winced at its heat, but the coffee’s burn seemed to ground her. “I’m sorry, Raven, I just…lost it. I didn’t know where else to go, I couldn’t stay at the house.”

Raven frowned. “Did you and Finn have a fight?”

Clarke laughed, a sharp, bitter sound. “Not exactly. He’s—” the words stuck in her throat. “He’s cheating on me,” she said hoarsely. 

“ _What?_ No. He wouldn’t.” 

Clarke licked her chapped lips. “He went to the mountains for a rally with his motorcycle club. I thought he said he’d be home this evening, but he wasn’t back, and he wasn’t answering his phone. And I get kind of worried about him riding in the dark, and it’s cold, and the roads up there could be slick.” She shook her head. “Anyway. I was worried, but I thought maybe I had the dates wrong, maybe he’s staying another day. So I checked that motorcycle board he’s always posting on just to see.” She stopped and looked at Raven with wounded eyes. “There were pictures,” she whispered. “Him at the rally with some other woman.” 

Raven flopped back against the sofa. “Are you sure Clarke?” she said skeptically. “Maybe they’re just friends. Because I can’t believe Finn would do that to you.” 

Clarke shook her head vehemently. “ _Yes_.” She leaned forward with her head in her hands. Her fingers dug into her scalp and she talked to the floor in a dull voice. “I did a search on the board. There’s a bunch of posts referring to them—like a _couple_ —going back months. So then I googled her.” She finally looked up at Raven. Her face was ashen. “She has a blog, Rae. There are _pictures_.” Clarke waved her hand, unable to continue. 

Raven got up and went into the other room and returned with her laptop. She opened it on the coffee table in front of her. She clenched her jaw and said to Clarke, “What’s the web address?”

Clarke repeated it to her in a monotone. She sat on the sofa staring at nothing while Raven scrolled through the site.

“Holy fuck,” Raven said in stunned disbelief. 

“Yeah.”

“He said he was late for Thanksgiving because he got a flat tire coming back from his road trip!”

“I know.”

“Not because he was in Virginia Beach with some bimbo!”

Clarke laughed mirthlessly. “It’s worse than that, Rae. He went to _Mexico_ with her this summer. _Mexico_. Where the hell was I? Oh, that’s right, I was running back and forth between work and taking Dad in for radiation treatments and squeezing in sleep whenever I could spare a moment!” 

Raven put her arm around Clarke and pulled her into a tight hug. “I am so, _so_ sorry, Clarke. Do you have any idea how long?”

“Not exactly. From her blog, looks like since sometime last summer. Maybe a year and a half?” She sat in shell-shocked stillness as Raven paged to the earliest entries, past motorcycle rides and cabin rentals and smiling faces. “I still can’t even believe this is _real_ ,” she whispered to herself. “How did I not _see_ it? How did I not _know_?” 

Raven set the laptop aside and turned to face Clarke. “You loved him,” she said simply. 

“I _trusted_ him, Raven! I didn’t fuss at him for going off on his bike and being gone all day, I thought he needed hobbies, friends, that were _his_. And these last few months I’ve been so focused on Dad, I haven’t paid as much attention….I knew _something_ was going on with him, but I never thought it would be _this_.”

Raven’s eyebrows furrowed. “What do you mean?”

“He’s just been…I don’t know, distant. Touchy. A lot more critical—of me, of my beliefs…‘liberals’…” Raven rolled her eyes. “I know! He never used to be like that!” She sighed. “I just thought he was depressed. He hasn’t been happy at his job, I thought that’s where it was coming from. I even tried to get him to go to couples’ counseling, but he didn’t want to go.” She laughed bitterly. “Guess I know why.” 

“How could he do this to me?” Clarke cried, growing increasingly distraught. “He lied to me—to my _face_ —for a year. He told me he loved me, that I was his ‘favorite’ person. How could you ever do this to someone you care about? Jesus, if he didn’t want to be with me anymore, why didn’t he just _break up_ with me?”

“I don’t know, Clarke,” Raven said sadly. She pulled Clarke toward her. “Come here.” Clarke lay down on the sofa with her head in Raven’s lap. She curled up in the fetal position. Raven gently stroked her hair. 

“I googled her. She has a kid, Rae,” Clarke whispered in a broken voice. “He always told me he didn’t want kids. I guess he just didn’t want them with _me_. What’s _wrong_ with me?” She finally started to fall apart, sobbing.

“Shh, Clarke,” Raven soothed. “Sweetie, there’s nothing wrong with you. This is about _him_ and his bullshit.” She held Clarke for a long time and let her cry herself out. “Come on, let’s get you to bed. You’re exhausted and strung out and you need to sleep.” Clarke started to protest, but Raven raised her voice and cut her off. “Tomorrow. We’ll go get your important stuff tomorrow—I’ll come with you—and we’ll figure out a plan. But right now you need to rest.”

*********

The next morning, Raven and Clarke drove to Clarke’s house and packed some of Clarke’s clothes, valuables, and important personal items. They filled Raven’s car with a load and she headed back to her apartment. Clarke stayed behind to collect a few more things. She was gathering up some photographs when she heard Finn’s bike pull into the driveway. She stood still for a moment, then squared her shoulders. _No point in putting it off._

Clarke was sitting at the dining room table when Finn walked in. 

“Hi, Clarke.” Finn barely glanced at her as he walked past her into the den and dumped his gear and helmet. Clarke’s stomach churned.

“Finn, where have you been? I thought you were coming home last night.”

“I was at the rally. I told you about it. I decided to stay an extra night instead of driving back in the dark.”

“Why didn’t you call? I was worried—I left you a bunch of messages and texts.”

Finn shrugged. “I didn’t have good cell service in the mountains.” He crossed into the kitchen and began rooting in the refrigerator for sandwich fixings. “Hey, are you going to the store? We’re out of cheese.” 

Clarke seethed. She turned to look Finn in the face. “Finn, who’s Lauren?”

Finn froze. Clarke could almost see the calculation behind his eyes. “She’s a friend,” he said casually.

“Don’t lie to me,” Clarke said flatly.

“She’s just a _friend_ ,” Finn insisted in a cold, adamant voice.

Clarke stood up and moved closer to him. “ _Bullshit_. I saw the photos on your motorcycle board! Friend, my ass! How long has this been going on?”

Finn shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the other. He wouldn’t look her in the eye. “A month or two,” he said evasively.

“ _Goddammit_ , Finn! Stop fucking _lying_ to me!” Clarke tried very hard to rein in her temper. “I know it’s been longer than that. I know you rented a cabin in the mountains with her while I was away for that workshop in the spring.” 

Finn looked startled. “How do you know—”

“It doesn’t matter _how I know_. How could you do this to me? If you didn’t want to be with me—if you didn’t _love_ me,” she choked on the words, “why didn’t you just end it instead of stringing me along and lying to me?” Finn looked guilty, but didn’t answer.

Clarke threw her hands up. “Can you at least tell me _why_?”

Finn finally regained his voice. “Oh, come on, Clarke,” he scoffed. “Like you even care that much. You’re hardly ever even here.”

“ _What_? You know that’s because my dad’s been sick! And you started seeing her before that ever happened! Finn, I _loved_ you!” Clarke said angrily.

“Well, you never listen to what I want, you’re always arguing with me!” he complained.

Clarke looked at him in confusion. “What the hell are you talking about?” 

“You always disagree with me, you never want to do what I ask you to—”

“Like what?” Clarke pushed, not really following his grievance.

“Like…” he racked his brain for an example. “Oh! I told you over and over I wish you’d grow out that pink dye in your hair, and you never would.”

“Finn, what the hell, it’s _my_ hair—”

“ _See?!_ ” Finn shouted triumphantly. “There you go again—you disagree with me about _everything_!”

Clarke looked at him in disbelief. _I don’t even know who you are any more._ “So…you cheated on me and lied to me—for over a year—because I questioned you? Because I wouldn’t _change_ myself for you?!” Rage surged through her. “What about Lauren? Does she know about me? Does she know we’ve been together for _nine fucking years?!_ ” 

Finn at least looked a little shamefaced. “I told her you had some family stuff going on, I couldn’t leave just yet….”

“You son of a bitch. So you were _going_ to break up with me, you were just too chickenshit to do it!” Clarke was so angry she could hardly speak. Her chest heaved with the effort. “Has she been here? In our house?”

Finn turned away.

“Oh my God, did you _fuck_ her in our _bed_?”

Still no answer. 

Clarke thought she might throw up. She snapped. She seized an empty mug on the table beside her and hurled it at the wall with all of her strength. It shattered with an explosive bang and Finn jumped.

“ _Get out!!_ ” Clarke shouted. “Get the fuck out! We are _done!_ Until I get my shit out of here, I don’t want to see your lying fucking face!”

Finn ran.

*****June 2018*****

“He never did give me a straight answer as to why,” Clarke said sadly. “And then my dad died a few months later…and I was pretty messed up for a long time. Just really numb.” They were back to the dorm by now, and started trudging up the stairs.

Lexa’s heart ached for Clarke. And Finn, _oh_ , Finn. If she ever got her hands on _him…._ “Clarke—”

Clarke kept talking as if she hadn’t heard. “He always told me he ‘wasn’t the marrying kind.’ But he married _her_. A year or two after I left him, he married her. He just didn’t want to marry _me_.” She looked at Lexa and her eyes still held a flicker of pain. “I know it was years ago…I should be over it—I _am_ over most of it. And I know it was down to his bullshit. But I can’t help but wonder….”

They reached the top of the stairs and Lexa stopped her with a hand on her arm. “Clarke, don’t even say that. Ever.” Clarke could see the strong emotion pouring from her eyes. Lexa pulled her into a tender embrace. “There is _nothing_ wrong with you. Finn was a fool,” she whispered fiercely into Clarke’s hair, squeezing her eyes shut to keep her own tears from falling. “Anyone would be a fool to let you go, you’re so special,” she insisted. “That’s why I l—” she swallowed. “That’s why you’re you.” She pressed a gentle kiss to Clarke’s head. They held each other for a long time, savoring each other’s reassuring warmth, and wishing for the courage to say the words in their hearts. 

They finally, reluctantly, pulled away. “We should go to sleep,” Clarke said with a tired yawn.

“Yeah. Goodnight, Clarke. I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Goodnight, Lexa.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Say it with me: "Fucking Finn."
> 
> On the plus side, I think that's it for the angst :)


	14. I Melt With You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> *title from Modern English
> 
> Happy Dragon*Con, y'all.

*****June 2018*****

Lexa dragged herself out of bed a little after eight.  It had been a short, relatively sleepless night.  Her body was exhausted from the long day, the alcohol, the physical exertion of jumping the wall, and the subsequent adrenaline crash.  Her brain, however, wouldn’t turn off.  She’d tossed and turned most of the night, trying not to wake Julia, but she couldn’t get Clarke’s image and words out of her mind.  Her thoughts kept turning to the soft slide of Clarke’s lips…the heat of their bare bodies pressed together…the faint taste of sweat on the tender flesh between her breasts….It wasn’t only physical arousal that tormented Lexa’s sleep, though.  It was the longing and desire in Clarke’s eyes just before they kissed…and the pain and betrayal in them later, when she spoke of Finn.  The utter devastation on Clarke’s face as she described Finn’s perfidy cut Lexa to the core.  She knew it was irrational, but she couldn’t help feeling as if she was partly to blame.  _If only I hadn’t been such a coward.  If only I’d told her how I felt all those years ago…maybe none of this would have happened._   _But then_ , she reminded herself, _Clarke was there, too—and she didn’t speak up, either_. _We were both too young, too dumb, too afraid, too stubborn._

Lexa finally accepted that real sleep was a lost cause.  She got up and put on her sneakers and a pair of running shorts, thinking that a good, long run might chase the residual alcohol out of her system and help clear her head.  She plugged her earbuds in and set off through the historic district.  She paced herself to her playlist, but the words and music didn’t really register.  She kept returning to Professor Indra’s advice:  “don’t look back at what might have been….figure out what you really want out of life, what will truly make you happy.” 

_What will truly make me happy?_

_Clarke.  Always, Clarke._  

_What are you so afraid of, Lexa?_

_That she doesn’t love me back?_

_You know she cares about you.  She told you so, years ago, and the look in her eyes last night…._

_What if last night was just the alcohol?  What if we were just caught up in the moment?_

_You know that’s bullshit.  What are you really afraid of?_

_That she *does* love me back._

_Why is that something to be afraid of?_

_…._

_That’s what I thought.  Get your shit together, Woods.  You’ve got a second chance.  Don’t throw away your shot._

 Lexa ran until her lungs burned, but as she made the turn for home she finally felt a sense of clarity.  _We can’t go back to what might have been—but maybe we can go forward._

*********

The light knock on the door roused Clarke from her own fitful slumber.  She wiped her mazy eyes and stumbled over to open it, trying not to wake Harper.

“Morning, sunshine,” Octavia parroted Clarke’s own greeting from the day before.  Clarke just grunted and winced at the bright light in the hallway.  “Hmm, looks like someone had a late night,” Octavia observed with a smirk. 

Clarke ignored the insinuation.  “Shh, keep it down, Harper’s still asleep.  What’s up?”

“Raven, Anya, and I are going for breakfast.  Want to come?”

“Um…yeah.  Let me put some clothes on.”  She closed the door and hunted through her suitcase for something to put on.  Harper began to stir.

“Hey, Clarke,” she said sleepily.

“Sorry about that, I didn’t mean to wake you,” Clarke apologized.  She threw on some rumpled clothes and moved to the sink to brush her teeth and put her hair up in a ponytail. 

“No, it’s ok,” Harper waved her off with a yawn.  “I need to get up, Fox and Mel want to go for breakfast in a little while.  You must have been out late, I didn’t hear you come in last night.”

“It was probably sometime after 2,” Clarke allowed.  “Things tend to get out of hand when Raven Reyes is involved.  Anyway, I’m heading out.  Are you going to Six Flags later?”

“Yeah, we’re having breakfast with just the girls, but then we’re going to meet up with our families and head over in a big group.  What about you?”

Clarke ignored the little pang she felt at “our families.”  “Yeah, not sure what time yet, but maybe I’ll see you there.”  Harper nodded.  Clarke left the room and met Raven, Octavia, and Anya in the foyer.  She frowned.  “Lincoln’s not coming?”  _What about Lexa?_

“I said I’d pick up something for him.  He never gets to sleep in on the weekend,” Octavia explained.

Clarke nodded understanding.  “Did anybody knock on Lexa’s door?” she asked casually.

Raven smothered a grin.  “Yeah, Anya did, but Julia said she left to go running and she’s not back yet.” 

“Right,” Clarke said, as they headed for the dining hall.  Raven and Octavia exchanged amused looks behind her back.  Clarke chewed her lip a little pensively as they walked, not really paying much attention to the conversation about the amusement park outing.   Last night had been draining, both physically and emotionally.  Finally opening up to Lexa about Finn had been a relief, but it had sapped a lot of emotional energy.  Even so, sleep hadn’t come easily.  Her body was still too keyed up from Lexa’s touch, and her mind wanted to rehash the evening to figure out What It All Meant.  As much as she’d insisted to Raven that she knew Lexa wasn’t Finn, and as much as she’d believed Lexa’s words and sentiment in the moment last night, a deep-seated part of her still doubted that anyone—much less _Lexa_ —could really want her.  She still felt emotionally fragile this morning, and Lexa was MIA. 

_It’s nothing.  You know it’s nothing._

_Is it?  Maybe she’s having second thoughts._

_You’re reading too much into it.  She likes to exercise.  Maybe she needs to clear her head, too._

_What if she doesn’t want me after all?_

_Don’t be stupid.  You saw how she looked at you.  How she’s *always* looked at you, you dumbass._

_Yeah, but—_

_No buts.  Whatever happened to confident Griffin?_

_Finn.  Finn happened._

_Fuck Finn.  Lexa’s not Finn.  She would never hurt you like that._

_But she *did.*  She left me.  And she didn’t tell me why._

_You know that was partly your fault.  You never told her how you felt.  It wasn’t fair to expect her to just know._

_Yeah._

_How long are you going to let this go on?  Do you love her?_

_Yeah.  Yes._

_Then you need to tell her._

_But what if she doesn’t—_

_What if she does?_

Clarke jolted out of her reverie once they reached the dining hall.  She mindlessly heaped her plate with bacon, eggs, and sausage, and she gulped down half her cup of coffee and had to top it off before she ever got through the checkout.  She sat down at the table and forked some egg-and-bacon mixture into her mouth just as Raven asked, “So, how’d it go last night?”

Clarke almost choked.  Once she stopped coughing, she replied, “Mostly ok.  We jumped the wall, but turns out they’ve got cameras now, so we kind of got busted.”

They all laughed, but Raven persisted.  “You know that’s not what I meant.  How’d it go with _Lexa_?”  Octavia and Anya munched on their meals and followed the interrogation raptly.

“Fine,” Clarke said noncommittally.

“Oh, come _on_ , Clarke!  Don’t give me more of this ‘nothing happened’ crap.  We’ve all seen how you two’ve been looking at each other.  Shit, that little incident in the brickyard yesterday was about to get downright pornographic if tricorn boy hadn’t pulled Lexa off of you.” 

Clarke exploded.  “I _told_ you, she’s stronger than she looks!  What do you want to hear, that she fingerbanged me on the town green last night?”  The loud outburst drew frowns and sidelong glances from the surrounding tables.  Her cheeks reddened and she lowered her voice.

“Well, _did_ she?” Raven asked incorrigibly, waggling her eyebrows.

“ _No!_ ”  Clarke’s blush deepened.  “We just…talked.” 

“Ohhh,” Raven said knowingly.  “And what did you ‘talk’ about,” she continued, making air quotes.

Clarke exhaled.  “I told her about Finn.”

“Oh.”  Raven dropped the teasing tone.  “Are you ok?”

“Yeah.  It was…good.  Cathartic.  I feel a lot better.  She said you told her to ask me.” 

Raven took a sip of coffee.  “She needed to know, and you needed to tell her if you’re ever going to have a future.”  She held up a hand to forestall Clarke’s response.  “Just tell me this—how did she react?” 

Clarke closed her eyes and said quietly, “She held me…she said I was special.”  _She made me feel whole again._   She didn’t realize she was crying until she opened her eyes and felt dampness on her cheeks.  She dabbed at her eyes with a napkin.  “Sorry, I didn’t sleep much….”

“Clarke,” Raven said gently.  “You know Lexa means that.” 

“Yeah.”

“Clarke,” Anya cut in, eyeing her carefully, “she really does.”

“How do you feel about her?” Octavia asked.

 _God…*she’s* the special one_.  She didn’t realize she’d said it aloud until she saw Raven and Octavia’s soft smiles and Anya’s penetrating stare.  “Anyway…can we talk about something else?  What are you guys wearing to the dance tonight?”

The others seemed to recognize that whatever else Clarke might have to say wasn’t meant for their ears, and they changed the subject to the banquet and dance that evening.  Octavia gushed about her dress (“do you have any idea how long it’s been since we went _anywhere_ nice?”), but Raven smirked at Anya and kept mum, insisting hers was a surprise.  Anya just rolled her eyes.  (“What is this, fucking prom?”) 

They finished breakfast and went back to the dorm to get ready for an afternoon of roller coasters and thrill rides.  Octavia hurried on ahead with Raven to bring Lincoln breakfast before it got cold, but Anya hung back with Clarke.  They walked in silence for a while until Anya said matter-of-factly, “You knew about Costia.”

“Yeah,” Clarke said simply. 

“And Finn?”

“Lexa knew.  Not that it was over…but yeah.”

“And that’s why you stayed away,” Anya mused to herself.  Clarke nodded once, briefly.  Anya shook her head and muttered something about “ _poor blind fools_.”  “Did she tell you how it ended with Costia?”

“Yeah, last night.”

“Then you know she’s been hurt.  And I know you have, too.  Raven told me about Finn.”  She held up a placating hand, seeing Clarke start to bristle.  “Just the gist, not details.”  Her voice softened a bit.  “I’m sorry, Clarke, really I am.  I can’t imagine what that was like for you.  I want you and Lexa to figure your shit out and be happy as much as Raven and Octavia do.  But they didn’t see Lexa after Costia left.  She just…shut down.  It was like she turned off a part of herself and stopped even trying to connect with anyone.  She’s seen some women since then, sure, but never for very long.  She doesn’t let herself get attached.  But with you—she’s different.  She’s cared about you since…well, she needs to tell you that herself.  But Clarke,” Anya stopped and put her hand on Clarke’s arm to halt her.  She gave her a piercing, warning glare.  “You’ve got to be absolutely sure what you want.  Do not fuck her around.  Because if you break her heart again…she won’t get over it.”

Clarke stared Anya down.  “What makes you think I will either?” she said bleakly. 

Anya nodded in acceptance.  “Then don’t fuck it up, Griffin.”  She began walking again. 

“I could say the same thing to you about Raven,” Clarke called after her in a sharp voice. 

Anya looked back at her, surprised.  “Raven?  She’s—I would never do that….”

“Holy shit,” Clarke observed in quiet wonder.  “You’re in love with her.”

Anya pressed her lips together and avoided Clarke’s eyes.  She nodded tightly.  “Yeah,” she murmured. 

Clarke walked alongside Anya for a moment, then nudged her playfully with her elbow.  “Then don’t fuck it up, Hunter,” she mimicked Anya’s own warning.

Anya huffed and rolled her eyes.  “Whatever, Griffin,” she growled, but a smile tugged at the corner of her lips. 

*********

Lexa rinsed the rest of the shampoo out of her hair and basked in a final few minutes of almost-scalding hot water.  Her muscles ached from the extra-long run, but she’d needed the exertion—physically, to work out last night’s sexual frustration, and mentally, to hash through her feelings toward Clarke.  It had worked; she felt far more clearheaded and ready to face her and have an honest conversation.  The shower was so relaxing that she was reluctant to get out, but her rumbling stomach reminded her that the yogurt parfait and coffee she’d picked up on the way back from her run awaited in her room.  She cut off the shower with a contented stretch and began to towel herself dry.  She kicked herself again for forgetting her hair dryer; her hair would take hours to completely dry and the curls would be more difficult to tame than usual.  _Maybe Julia or Octavia has a hair dryer I could borrow_ , she mused absently, as she wrapped the towel around her body and stowed her shampoo and soap back in her toiletries bag.  She slid the curtain back, stepped out of the stall, and reached up to collect her dirty clothes from the hook by the shower—and almost dropped them on the tile floor. 

“Clarke!”  Lexa gasped.  “I—I didn’t hear you come in.”  Her body flushed and tingled all over, and not just from the residual heat of the shower. 

Clarke looked equally startled.  Her hands were at her waist, as if she had just been about to unfasten her shorts.  “Lexa!  I didn’t know you were in here, Raven said you went for a run.”  She stared dumbly at Lexa, taking in her wide eyes, the smooth dip of her collarbones, and the thick mass of shiny, wet hair gathered over one shoulder and dripping steadily onto her towel.  _Towel_.  Clarke’s face burned as it slowly dawned on her that a dark green strip of terry cloth was all that stood between her and Lexa’s naked, pliant body.  She made a valiant, if altogether unsuccessful, effort to avert her eyes.

Despite the towel, Lexa felt stripped naked beneath the heat of Clarke’s gaze.  “Yeah…uh…I got back, was just getting cleaned up,” she said inanely.  _Way to state the obvious, Lexa!_  

“Oh, um, me, too.  I mean, I went to breakfast with O and the others but I didn’t have a chance to shower first, and I wanted to do that before we go out,” Clarke babbled.  _Griffin, what the hell is wrong with you?_ She took a calming breath and gave Lexa a shaky smile.  “Sorry, I don’t know why I’m so nervous around you this morning.”

Lexa’s own tension ebbed a bit.  She smiled back.  “I know, it’s mutual.”  She held up hands laden with clothes and toiletries.  “I’m just gonna go get dressed….” 

Clarke nodded vigorously.  “Right!  Yes!  I’ll see you in a little bit.”  _With clothes on_. _Unfortunately._   “Oh—you’re going to Six Flags, right?”  She felt a sudden panic that Lexa might not join the group, but it faded as quickly as it had come when she nodded yes. 

Lexa moved toward the exit, but turned back before she walked out.  “Clarke,” she asked urgently, “can we talk later?  Please?”

“Yeah.  I’d like that.” 

Clarke took an exceptionally cold shower for the second time in as many days.  Lexa, meanwhile, put on clean clothes and tried to ease the tightly-wound tension in her chest and gut with some deep breaths.  She abandoned any thought of a hair dryer in favor of just pulling her hair up in a loose, damp ponytail.  She sat on her bed and spooned parfait into her mouth mechanically, not really registering it as food.  _So much for clear-headed_. _I want to tell her how I feel, but the moment’s never right…or I get so tongue-tied I can’t get the words out…shit.  What am I gonna do?_

She heard some commotion in the hall and then a rap on her door.  “Lexa!”

She swung it open.  Anya was at the door; Octavia and Lincoln were waiting in the foyer with Raven.  “Hey, we’re leaving for Six Flags as soon as Clarke’s ready.  Are you coming?”  

“Yeah, let me get my stuff.”  She checked her wallet to make sure she had her ticket and grabbed her key.  She was locking her door when Clarke walked out of her own room two doors down.  Lexa stopped short and nearly dropped her key.  Clarke’s blonde hair was gathered up in a messy bun that exposed her neck and shoulders.  She wore close-fitting khaki shorts that just skimmed her mid-thigh and a simple blue tank top that gently hugged her curves, _curves that I touched…tasted…felt writhe against me_.  Lexa began to sweat.  As Lexa walked down the hall in her direction, Clarke caught her eye and refused to look away.  Lexa’s mouth felt parched.  _Jesus fucking Christ, there’s no way I’ll make it through the afternoon with her._  

Lexa cleared her throat.  “Clarke,” she said in a strained voice, “can I talk to you?  In private?”

Clarke broke the stare and glanced down the hall at their friends, waiting impatiently in the foyer.  “What, now?  You want to talk now?”

Lexa drew closer, almost into Clarke’s personal space.  “Please, Clarke,” she said in a low voice.

Clarke’s eyes dropped from Lexa’s rapidly darkening eyes to her lips and then flitted away.  She licked her own dry lips.  “Uh, yeah, ok.  Hey guys!” she called to the group.  “You go on ahead, we’re gonna take my car and catch up with you at the park.”  Clarke unlocked her door and gestured for Lexa to follow her in.  She turned to close the door behind them.  “What did you want to—”

Lexa backed her up against the closed door and kissed her, hard.  Clarke yelped in surprise and Lexa’s tongue swept over her parted lips and into her mouth, insistently exploring the depths she’d only begun to chart the night before.  Her fingers threaded through Clarke’s hair and tugged the waves out of the elastic to spill over her shoulders.  Clarke gave a deep, throaty moan and clutched at Lexa’s shoulders.  Her hands slipped lower, down Lexa’s back to her ass, pulling her body tight against Clarke’s own and holding her in place.  The solid pressure of Clarke’s breasts and belly against hers ignited a reckless hunger in Lexa that she finally stopped trying to rein in.  She trailed wet, open-mouthed kisses along Clarke’s jawline and down her arching throat to her chest.  Clarke moaned and buried her hands in Lexa’s still-damp tresses in encouragement. 

“Lexa—what are you doing?” Clarke gasped.

“What I wanted to do last night,” Lexa murmured against Clarke’s sternum.  “What I wanted to do this morning in the shower.”  She sucked a hard kiss just above Clarke’s collarbone and Clarke inhaled sharply.  Lexa lifted her head to look Clarke in the face, lips shiny and eyes dark with lust.  “What I should have done twenty years ago,” she rasped in a gravelly voice, before claiming Clarke’s mouth again in a deep, utterly filthy kiss.  She disconnected their lips long enough to shuck Clarke’s tank top up and over her head.  She wasted no time in stripping off her bra.  Clarke keened into Lexa’s mouth at the feel of soft hands palming her breasts and slender fingers coaxing her nipples into stiff peaks.

Clarke’s hands dropped to pluck at Lexa’s shirt, but Lexa swatted them away gently.  She drew back long enough to shed her own top, but she left her bra on.  Clarke moved to unclasp it, but Lexa tsked warningly against her mouth and captured her wrists with both hands.  She imprisoned Clarke’s wrists against the door above her head and declared firmly, “My turn.”  The hint of steel in her voice awakened a throb between Clarke’s legs, and she squirmed with restless impatience.     

Lexa kept Clarke’s arms pinned over her head and pressed herself against her body, relishing the searing heat of skin against skin.  Clarke’s mouth surged up to meet hers, hot and and demanding and more than willing.  Needy sighs broke from their throats as they slowly worked their way closer to what they both craved.  Lexa slowly undulated her body against Clarke’s.  She deliberately scraped the lace of her bra across Clarke’s sensitive nipples and smirked into the curses that fell from her lips.  She shifted her thigh in between Clarke’s and rocked her hips upward against her center.

“Jesus, Lexa!” Clarke groaned.  She ground her hips downward against Lexa’s muscled thigh, desperate for friction to satisfy the ache building between her legs.  Lexa rocked against her again, enjoying the arch of Clarke’s back and the forward jut of her breasts as she impatiently rode Lexa's thigh.  Lexa wanted more than anything to take her sweet time learning the contours and secrets of Clarke’s body, to map with her fingers and tongue the ticklish spots, the touches that would make her squirm, or beg, or cry out, or swear and plead for more, the intimate _flavors_ of her.  But that would have to come later; after twenty years of pent-up desire, neither of them had the fortitude to wait any longer.

Lexa broke the kiss with a languid suck on Clarke’s lower lip that left her quivering.  She released her wrists, but gave her a meaningful, warning look with eyes gone nearly black.  Clarke nodded imperceptibly and draped her arms over Lexa’s shoulders, carding her fingers through her increasingly messy hair.  Lexa continued to press kisses against Clarke’s jaw, her neck, the sensitive spot just beneath her ear, but her hands drifted lower, over her breasts and soft belly, to her waistband, and Clarke thought she might combust if Lexa didn’t touch her _soon_. 

Lexa locked eyes with Clarke as she popped the button on her shorts.  The rasp of the zipper cut across their ragged breaths as she slowly, purposefully, unzipped Clarke’s fly.  Still maintaining eye contact, Lexa slid a hand into her shorts and cupped her gently over her underwear.  Lexa’s eyes squeezed shut and her mouth dropped open at the dampness she felt seeping through.  “Oh God,” she whispered almost inaudibly, lightly caressing over the wet cotton.  She felt Clarke’s hand on her wrist lifting her hand away, and her eyes flew open.  _Shit!  Too much, she doesn’t want this!_

“Shit, Clarke, I’m sorry— _oh fuck!_ " as Clarke slipped Lexa’s hand back into her shorts, inside her panties this time.

“Don’t stop,” Clarke said hoarsely, drawing Lexa’s mouth back to hers for a blistering kiss.  She loosed a deep, satisfied moan as Lexa’s fingers skated through her silky folds.  “Oh my God, Lexa,” she hissed.

“Holy shit, Clarke, you’re so fucking wet,” Lexa marveled softly.  She brushed her fingers through the coarse patch of hair on her mound and teased Clarke’s drenched lips, circling just around her clit but not _quite_ touching it. 

Clarke couldn’t take the torment much longer.  She clung to Lexa’s shoulders, almost vibrating with need.  “Lexa, please…don’t make me wait…God, I _need_ you.”

Clarke’s slick heat under her fingers, combined with the scent of her arousal and the sight of her veritably begging for release shot a powerful charge through Lexa.  She husked an order into her ear, “Take off your shorts.  Panties, too.”  Clarke complied with alacrity, yanking the clothing down her legs and spreading her legs ever so slightly in anticipation.  Lexa ran her fingers over Clarke’s pussy, gathering the wetness at her entrance, but stopping just short of dipping inside.  She couldn’t resist stoking the fire just a little more.  She gently sucked and nipped on on her earlobe with her teeth as her hand worked between Clarke’s legs.  “Tell me what you need,” she demanded seductively.

Clarke whimpered.  She’d been worked up ever since last night, but Lexa’s touch and her throaty orders and her fucking _commanding_ presence had her on the brink of losing all control.  Her fingers clawed at Lexa’s shoulders.  “I need you to touch me,” she pleaded.

“I already am.  Touch you how?”  Lexa pressed mercilessly.  Her eyes bored into Clarke’s.  “ _Say_ it, Clarke.  I want to hear you say it.” 

“ _Damn_ it, Lexa, I need you inside me!  I need you to _fuck_ me!  _Ohh_!”  Clarke’s eyes slammed shut.  Her head fell back against the door and her mouth gaped as Lexa deliberately sank two fingers all the way into her and held them still.

“Look at me, Clarke,” Lexa whispered insistently.  Clarke opened her eyes and shivered at the intensity in Lexa’s eyes, pitch black but for a tiny sliver of green winking around the edge.  Her breath hitched erratically.  Lexa began gliding her fingers in and out, slowly at first, then with greater force and momentum.  “Is this what you want?” she husked.  Clarke could only whine in reply.  Lexa stroked into her with a steady, relentless pace that had Clarke gasping. 

Lexa lowered her head to the juncture of her neck and shoulder and buried her face in her hair.  The overwhelming sensations of _Clarke_ —the mingled fragrance of her shampoo and sweat and arousal, the slip of her sweat-slicked torso against Lexa’s, the sting of Clarke’s nails down her back as she desperately clung to her for support, the tight stretch and pull of her walls around Lexa’s questing fingers—cracked Lexa’s façade of control and she unconsciously whispered praise and encouragement into Clarke’s neck and cheek and lips as she slid into her.  “Clarke, baby, you feel so good…so wet for me,” she panted.  Clarke began bucking against her with intent and Lexa could tell she was close.  She slowed her rhythm just slightly, crooking her fingers over the sensitive spot inside and deliberately rubbing Clarke’s clit with the heel of her hand on each pass.  She put her hips behind each thrust for added deep pressure, making the door behind them rattle in time in its frame. 

Clarke’s forehead clenched in concentration and she bit her lip almost hard enough to draw blood.  Lexa kissed the straining tendons of her neck and whispered urgently in her ear.  “Let it out, baby.  I want to _hear_ you.”  She punctuated her words with extra-deep grinds of her hips and fingers.  “I want the whole _floor_ to hear you.  I want them to hear you and know that you’re _mine_ ,” she growled.  At that, Clarke shattered with a shout that could’ve been heard on the first floor.  She convulsed against Lexa, back arching, and white static sweeping over her vision.  The weight of Lexa’s body and her fingers firmly coaxing her through her juddering release were all that held Clarke upright, and she finally slumped in Lexa’s arms, spent and sweaty and satiated. 

Clarke twitched and whined in protest when Lexa eased her fingers from her.  Lexa just shifted her arm around Clarke’s trembling body and held her close, still nuzzling light kisses and muted words of approval against the baby-fine hair at her temple and across her sweat-dampened brow.  Clarke closed her eyes and felt her ragged breath and pounding heartbeat start to even out.  She hummed into the comfort of Lexa’s embrace in contentment.  _This is what it feels like to be loved_.  The thought might have produced anxiety only days earlier, but now it merely brought her tranquility and a warm, all-encompassing bliss that she desperately wanted Lexa to share.  Lexa’s almost inaudible murmurs—“ _beautiful…you’re so good…my sweet girl…so amazing,_ ”—finally seeped through her hazy afterglow.  She lifted her head to look at Lexa, letting her pleasure and appreciation and _love_ spread unfettered across her face.  Lexa’s soft, awed expression mirrored her own.  

Steadier on her feet now, Clarke carefully edged Lexa backwards to her bed.  She collapsed into it and dragged Lexa down with her in a tangle of legs and disheveled hair and fervent kisses that lasted long minutes.  She finally broke the embrace with a sigh.  Clarke brushed her nose against Lexa’s, their lips just inches apart, so close that she could count her fluttering eyelashes and spiral into the tiny flecks of gold in the shimmering sea of green.  “So,” she said in a scratchy voice, licking her kiss-swollen lips, “good talk.” 

A self-satisfied, knowing grin tugged at Lexa’s lips.  Her fingertips traced abstract patterns over Clarke’s ass and bare hip, mindlessly swung across Lexa’s own.  “I know lots of words, Clarke,” she purred smugly. 

“Yeah?”  Clarke’s eyes flashed a dangerous blue gleam.  She rolled Lexa flat on her back and pressed her into the mattress.  Her hands slid between their bodies to undo Lexa’s shorts.  “Let’s see how many of them you remember when I’m done with you.  _My_ turn,” she said with satisfaction, lowering her mouth to Lexa’s breast.

 *********   

“ _Yes_ , honey, I’ll be there in, like, five minutes. …We got held up at breakfast, and then I forgot the tickets….I know…I _know_ ….Well, at least I remembered before we got all the way there!  Look, Fox is on her way, I’m almost to the room—I’ve just got to grab the tickets and then I’ll be right over….Ok, bye.”  Harper stabbed the end call button in annoyance and trotted up the stairs.  _It’s only half an hour, we’re not that late.  Surely Darren can wrangle the kids on his own that much longer_.  She sighed.  _That’s not fair; he does his share.  The kids are just wound up about Six Flags and probably driving him crazy._ She hurried down the hall to her room and turned the key, but the door locked instead of unlocking.  _Huh.  I thought Clarke would have already left, I wonder why she left the door open_.  She fumbled with the lock and swung the door open.

“Oh!  Oh shit!”  Lexa sprawled on her back on Clarke’s bed, naked, her legs bent and splayed wide.  One hand flung out to the side gripped the sheets with white knuckles.   Equally naked, Clarke lay with her head buried between Lexa’s thighs.  Lexa’s other hand twined in her hair, guiding Clarke’s mouth.  Harper’s natural instinct was to yank the door shut and give the couple privacy… _but I need those damn tickets!  Shit!_   “Oh my God, you guys, I am so sorry!”  She clapped her hand over her eyes and darted over to her desk, trying desperately not to see anything. 

Lexa’s eyes flew open in shock as Harper’s voice cut through her fog of arousal.  _Person!  In the room!_ “Shit… _Clarke_ ,” Lexa gasped in warning.  She flailed unsuccessfully for a sheet to cover them and half-heartedly tried to push Clarke away.  Clarke gave a disgruntled growl and settled herself more firmly in place.  She clamped one arm across Lexa’s hips to keep her still and licked a long, slow swipe over her slit with the broad flat of her tongue.  Lexa jerked involuntarily and flopped back on the mattress with a groan.  She felt Clarke’s lips smirk against her.  Lexa’s face flooded with embarrassment—whether from being exposed _in flagrante_ or from her utter disinclination to make Clarke stop, she couldn’t tell—but she abandoned her fruitless attempt at modesty in favor of grinding her pussy against Clarke’s eager mouth. 

Harper, meanwhile, kept up a constant babble as she ransacked the small stack of papers on her desk, so as to distract her own attention and to drown out the soft _squelch_ of Clarke’s tongue lapping through Lexa’s wet folds.  “Don’t mind me…tickets…tickets…oh!  There they are!”  She snatched the slips of paper and averted her eyes again as she rushed to the door.  She couldn’t resist a reproachful snark on her way out.  “Dammit, Clarke, we _talked_ about socks!”  The door banged emphatically behind her.

At that, Clarke began laughing hysterically.  She pulled back and rested her head on Lexa’s thigh until the fit passed.  Lexa raised up on her elbows to spear her with a look of mock disapproval and dismay.  The sight of Clarke nestled between her legs with a happy, carefree sparkle in her eyes and Lexa’s arousal painting her chin washed away any real censure and made her heart clench with possessive desire.  “What the hell, Clarke?” she scolded teasingly, “Harper was _right there_!” 

Clarke just giggled at Lexa’s slightly mortified expression.  Her lightness was infectious and Lexa’s smile soon matched hers.  “Really, though—you didn’t even _stop_!”

The laughter on Clarke’s face faded, replaced by a darker hunger.  She sucked a gentle bite into Lexa’s delicate inner thigh and soothed the sting with her tongue.  Her blue eyes blazed with fervor again as she swept her gaze over the flange of Lexa’s hip, the faint ripple of her abs, the supple firmness of her breasts, their rosy buds tightening beneath the weight of her stare, until she met Lexa’s own glowing, bright eyes.  Clarke swallowed and said thickly, “I’ve waited twenty years to taste you, I wasn’t about to let Harper McIntyre or anyone else stop me.  Speaking of which…”  She flashed a devilish grin and lowered her mouth to track a torturously slow line of dirty kisses up Lexa’s tender flesh, into the crease of her thigh, over her mound, finally easing her tongue back into Lexa’s wet depths. 

Lexa hummed eagerly and arched against the hot glide of Clarke’s mouth.  Clarke reveled in the tangy flavor bursting on her tongue.  She delved deeper, seeking out the subtle places that made Lexa sigh with contentment, or tense at her touch, or clutch at the sheets and buck against her mouth in earnest.  She slid her hands under Lexa’s ass, opening her wider and holding her steady as she lapped through her with broad strokes.  Her heart soared with the realization that she had _Lexa_ spread beneath her, bare and wanting and craving her touch.  Clarke longed to drag her pleasure out, to discover all her needy, enthusiastic, impatient sounds, but more than that, she yearned to see Lexa lose herself completely in pleasure and break into a million, achingly beautiful fragments. 

It didn’t take long; Lexa’s tension had been building all morning, and bringing Clarke to climax had left her hovering on the precipice of her own.  Clarke tongued a filthy, open-mouthed kiss against Lexa’s entrance.  Lexa cursed loudly and her thighs slapped against Clarke’s ears.  Clarke teased just the tip of her tongue inside her before pulling back to cast a look up her body.  Lexa whimpered and ground her hips against Clarke’s face, desperate for friction in that perfect spot.  Her hair was a sweaty wreck across the pillow and her chest heaved and glistened with perspiration.  Her eyes squeezed shut in delectable concentration.  Clarke lapped at her gently and nudged her clit with her nose.  Lexa’s eyes flew open and latched on to Clarke’s.  “Please, Clarke, I’m so close, _please_ ,” she panted out mindlessly.  Clarke dropped a feather-light kiss on her clit.  “ _Yes,_ oh God, more….”

“Tell me what you need, Lexa,” Clarke murmured, echoing Lexa’s own words and shooting a sinful smirk up at her.

“ _Fuck_ , Clarke…mockery is not the product of a strong mind!” 

“What do you need?”  Clarke whispered inexorably.  She reached up and took Lexa’s trembling hand.  “Tell me, baby.”

Lexa’s self-possession was almost gone.  “Unh!  I need to come…fuck, I need _you_ to make me come!”

The primal urgency behind Lexa’s words startled Clarke to the core.  The surge of power at shaking Lexa past the point of no return spiked her own arousal, but the intensity and raw honesty of her demand almost overwhelmed Clarke’s emotions.  _Me.  God, she needs *me.*_   Her heart slammed inside her chest.  Tears of elation, of desire, of consideration, pricked at the corners of her eyes.  _Oh, sweetheart, I will._        

Clarke lowered her mouth back to Lexa and swirled her tongue over her clit.  She found the tempo and the pressure that Lexa craved and licked into her, heeding her small, frantic noises and the quake of her legs against Clarke’s head.  Purposeful, focused suction on her clit was the last straw that finally sent her careening over the edge, her back bowing off the bed and Clarke’s name spilling from her lips.  Clarke gripped Lexa’s hand tightly and tongued a steady, gentle rhythm through the jolting, trembling waves of her orgasm, until Lexa’s muscles finally released their tension and she shied against the pressure of Clarke’s mouth. 

Clarke dropped a few lingering, gentle kisses over less sensitive flesh and slowly shuffled her way up Lexa’s body, feathering kisses and soft touches along her path.  She rested on an elbow and paused to take in the blissful, ruddy relaxation on Lexa’s slack face.  On feeling Clarke's upward trajectory stop, Lexa cracked an eye open and presented her with a dopey smile.  Clarke’s heart seized.  She beamed in reply and leaned down to press her lips to Lexa’s in a languorously slow kiss, the remnants of Lexa’s arousal mingling on their tongues.  She broke the kiss and snuggled her body against Lexa’s left side.  She settled her head in the hollow of her armpit and inhaled the musky scent of Lexa’s exertion with satisfaction.      

Lexa sighed contentedly at Clarke’s perfect fit against her side: the swell of her hip, the silky tickle of her hair brushing over her skin, drape of Clarke’s leg flung across her own, the delicate patterns she drew absently upon Lexa’s sweat-cooling breasts and abdomen.  Lexa wrapped her left arm around her and smoothed the tangled wreck of her hair.  “ _God_ , Clarke,” she breathed.  

Clarke gave a pleased smirk into Lexa’s shoulder.  “Mmm.  That’s five words you know.”  She counted them off on one hand.  “Please, God, fuck, Clarke, and yes.  Guess I need to work harder next time.”

Lexa’s chest rumbled in a laugh, but then Clarke felt her tense.  After a pregnant pause, Lexa said quietly, so quietly Clarke almost didn’t hear her, “I know three more.”

Clarke’s eyes widened and she tipped her head up at her.  Lexa opened her mouth to take the plunge, but her eyes said it all before her lips ever could.  Clarke quickly stopped her with a trembling finger at her lips.  “Lex—are you sure?” she asked searchingly, unwilling to admit how desperately she longed to hear those words from her and how much she’d feared she never would.  She wet her suddenly dry lips.  “We—we haven’t seen each other in years.  Haven’t _talked_ in years.  We’ve both changed, maybe not for the better.  What if,” Clarke took a shuddering breath and felt tears sting at her eyes, “what if it turns out I’m not what you want?  That I’m not the person you remember?”  _That I’m not good enough.  How can I be good enough for *you*?_

Lexa took Clarke’s hand in hers and gently kissed the finger that had been pressed to her lips.  “Clarke…I could say the same thing to you,” she reasoned.  “To paraphrase a wise man, you are,  and always shall be, my friend.  All I know is that I’ve gone the last twenty years without you in my life.  And it’s hurt so much.  _So_ much.  We— _I—_ made mistakes back then, but I don’t want to make an even worse one now.”  She swallowed hard and looked at Clarke with luminous eyes.  “Because I love you.  I am _in_ love with you,” she said simply. 

Clarke choked on a sob.  Tears spilled down her cheeks.  She brought their linked hands to her lips and kissed Lexa’s fingers.  “I love you, too, Lexa,” she answered, emotions brimming over.  The smile that split Lexa’s face made her laugh with joy.  Clarke shifted upward and cradled Lexa’s cheek with her free hand.  “I love you,” she whispered, and joined their lips in a kiss unlike any they’d shared thus far.  Sweet, eager yet tender, and with a promise of things to come.  When they finally broke for air, their combined tears streaked both their cheeks. 

Clarke kissed Lexa again on her lips, the tip of her nose, her damp cheek.  “I’ve gotta ask, though—did you just quote Spock at me?”

Lexa reddened.  “Maybe.”

Clarke giggled.  “You’re such a nerd,” she teased.

Lexa dragged her head back down.  “You’re the nerd who knew it,” she murmured, connecting their mouths again in another lengthy, increasingly intense exploration of tongues and teeth that took Clarke’s breath away.  

“Wow,” Clarke stuttered.  “Somehow I never pictured you as quite so… _fierce…._ Before—when you called me _yours_ ….”  She shivered and felt a fresh pool of warmth surge between her thighs.

Lexa quirked an eyebrow.  “So you pictured me, Clarke?” she asked seductively, letting a hand drift down to toy with Clarke’s rapidly hardening nipple. 

“Ahh!  Maybe,” Clarke blurted, twitching and biting back a groan.

“Do you want to tell me about it?”  Clarke’s breath hitched as Lexa sucked a line of kisses down her throat.

“Later,” Clarke husked before words escaped her entirely.  “Right now I’d rather you showed me.” 

Lexa’s eyes glinted at the challenge.  “Yes ma’am.”  Clarke squealed as Lexa flipped her on her back with a sharp buck and twist of her hips and bent her head down to Clarke’s. 

*********

Raven limped across the hall from the restroom to the shower room.  After a sweaty afternoon at Six Flags, she and the rest of the group had headed back to clean up and relax before the evening banquet and dance.  Raven grimaced as she pushed open the door.  Her leg ached from hours of walking and standing on asphalt.  She wasn’t sure how well it would hold up for a night of dancing, but a hot shower and the massage Anya had promised—Raven’s lips curved in a wistful smile—and maybe a nap would hopefully work wonders.  One of the stalls was already occupied and steam filled the room. 

Raven frowned in annoyance.  She hung up her towel beside the stall in use.  “Dammit, Anya, I thought you were waiting for me!” she groused, flinging the curtain aside.  Her jaw dropped.  “Oh, fuck!”

Lexa had Clarke up against the stall, her front tucked into Clarke’s back and Clarke’s breasts flush against the smooth, wet tile.  One hand held Clarke’s dripping hair to the side, baring her jaw and neck to Lexa’s kiss.  Her other arm snaked around Clarke’s body to play over her clit.  Clarke threw her head back, exposing more of her throat and clavicle to the slow slide of Lexa’s mouth.  Lexa insinuated a leg between Clarke’s, and Clarke reached a hand back to dig into Lexa’s flank and hold her in place.  The shower spray rained over Lexa’s flexing back and ass muscles as the couple ground together slowly, breathlessly. 

“Holy shit!”  Raven slapped the curtain shut in shock.  “Sorry!  Uh…carry on!”  She grabbed her towel and made for the door as quickly as her leg permitted.  She met Anya just outside the door and took her arm, turning her around in the opposite direction and hurrying her down the hall to their room.  “Change of plans!  Massage and nap first, _then_ shower.  Oh!  And you owe me twenty bucks,” she added, chortling.

Anya sighed.  “Do I even want to know?”

Raven just grinned and rubbed her hands together in glee.

Lexa stopped the grind of her hips, but she didn’t pull away from Clarke despite the interruption.  “Everyone’s going to know now,” she said just loudly enough to be heard over the shower.  Her pulse quickened with uncertainty and her eyes held a question.

Clarke angled her neck so she could see Lexa’s face.  “I don’t care, babe, I want them to.”  Her hand caressed Lexa’s hip for emphasis.  “Do you not?” she asked, a little uncertain now herself.

Lexa smiled and kissed the corner of Clarke’s mouth, suddenly feeling ten times lighter.  “I do.  I hope you know that.”  She shifted so that she was simply holding Clarke, and they stood still for a quiet moment, soaking up the hot water and each other’s closeness.  “Clarke…this dance tonight.  I know we’re both going anyway, but would you…maybe—” she gulped.  “Would you like to go _together_?” 

Clarke turned around in her arms to face her.  She draped her own arms around Lexa’s neck.  “Like a date?” she asked playfully.

“No.  I mean yes!”  Lexa fumbled for the words to make her meaning clear.  “I mean, it’s not exactly a date because we’d both be there either way, but….” 

Clarke couldn’t resist teasing.  “So nervous, Woods.  What happened to The Commander?”  

Lexa blushed, but persevered.  “I want to take you on a real date when we get home.  But tonight…do you want to go with me?”

Clarke’s eyes softened at the shy hopefulness on Lexa’s face.  A warmth rushed over her that had nothing to do with the shower.  She leaned in and kissed her tenderly.  “Yes, Lexa.  Always.”  


	15. All I Want is You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> *title from U2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to all of you for reading! Sorry the finale took so long to get out. Irma is partly to blame, but it was kind of hard to finish because, well, it's the end. Hopefully 12K words makes up for the delay ;). I had fun with the nostalgia and the writing. Please to enjoy! OH--and bonus points if you can name the 90s film that song comes from (without looking it up. Srsly).

***June 2018***

Lexa squared her shoulders and knocked firmly on the door.  Anya wrenched it open moments later and leaned against the door jamb with crossed arms, a sardonic grin on her face.  “Lexa.  Finally decide to come up for air?” 

Lexa reddened.  “I see you talked to Raven,” she muttered. 

“Yeah, and I’ve gotta say, you managed to keep it in your pants for twenty years, you guys couldn’t hold out another twelve hours?” Anya shook her head, the mirth in her eyes belying her feigned annoyance.  “I lost another twenty bucks to Raven.  She’s damn near insufferable now.”    

Lexa threw her head back in exasperation.  “I can’t believe you _bet_ on us having sex,” she whined.

Anya’s grin widened.  She levered off the wall and jerked her head at Lexa, inviting her inside.  She settled into a chair and propped her legs up on a desk.  Lexa trailed into the room after her and perched a hip on the edge of the other desk.  “So?” Anya prodded.

“So _nothing_ , Anya,” Lexa resisted, “I just had a favor to—”

“Oh, no, you don’t.  I’ve watched you pine over Clarke for years, you’re not getting off that easily.”  Her smirk faded and her voice took on a more serious tone.  “I’m not asking for a blow-by-blow—although Rae might.”  The corners of her lips twitched, but she contained the smile and continued.  “Just—how _are_ you?  I don’t want to see you get hurt again.”

Lexa gave a small smile.  “I’m...not entirely sure.  Part of me feels great— _amazing_.  I can’t even describe it.”  Her jaw worked and she looked away.  “I finally told her how I feel,” she said quietly. 

“And?” Anya pressed gently, her eyes intent on Lexa. 

Lexa’s smile grew.  “She feels the same way,” she replied.  “I don’t want to talk about it too much,” she continued awkwardly, “we still have a lot to say to each other—”

“As if talking too much was _ever_ your problem,” Anya snorted.  She held up a hand to ward off Lexa’s protest.  “I get it.  That’s none of my business.  What’s the ‘but,’ though?” she asked with a concerned frown.

“It’s not a ‘but,’ exactly,” Lexa explained haltingly.  “Everything finally feels _right_ , for the first time in a long time…and yet there’s this little piece of me that’s terrified.  Not that she’ll hurt me,” she added hastily, “but that I’ll screw it up.  I’ve done it before, with Costia—Clarke, too.  I can’t blow it, Anya, I just can’t.”   _I can’t lose her again, it will break me._

Anya nodded slowly.  “Yeah.  I know,” she said heavily.  Lexa looked at her curiously.  “Raven,” she said simply.  “She’s…God, Lex, she’s just—”

“—everything,” Lexa finished, understanding dawning on her face. 

“Yeah.”  Anya colored and cleared her throat.  “But Clarke isn’t Costia.  The thing that’s always held you two back has been communication.  It’s only taken you twenty years,” her lips twisted in a rueful grin, “but maybe you’ve finally figured that out.  Tell her what you’re afraid of.  The way she looks at you—the way she’s _always_ looked at you—I don’t think you have anything to worry about.”

Lexa sighed.  “You’re right,” she admitted. 

“What’s that?” Anya’s smirk returned.  She leaned forward, cupping one ear.  “Sorry, I didn’t hear you, could you repeat that?”

Lexa stuck out her tongue at her.  “You’re such a pain in the ass,” she grumbled. 

Anya laughed.  “Anyway, what did you want to ask me?” she prompted.

“Oh—can I borrow your car?  I wanted to get something for Clarke,” Lexa replied, blushing. 

“You got it.”  Anya fished her keys out of her bag and tossed them to Lexa.  “Oh, and while you’re out, you might want to pick up some concealer,” she snickered, gesturing at her neck.  Lexa turned beet red and made for the door.  “Or maybe a scarf!” Anya called after her, cackling, as Lexa fled.

*****

The level of noise and commotion on the hall increased as people readied for the evening’s festivities.  Lexa heard the buzz of conversation and laughter from behind Raven and Octavia’s door as she pulled her own door closed behind her.  She hurried to Clarke’s room, half hoping they could at least beat their friends to the ballroom and perhaps escape some of the interrogation and playful ribbing that they were undoubtedly in for.  She fidgeted in front of Clarke’s door and plucked at the hem of her dress, the butterflies in her stomach awakening, even though she knew she had no cause to be nervous. 

_It’s just Clarke._

_There is no “just” Clarke—that’s why you’re nervous._

_Stop being ridiculous, Woods.  You know how she feels, there’s nothing to worry about._

Lexa straightened her shoulders and knocked on the door without further thought.  When it opened, Lexa found herself face-to-face with Harper.  _Awkward!_

“Lexa—hey.” 

Lexa cleared her throat and avoided Harper’s eyes.  “Harper.  Um, about earlier….” 

Harper cut her off.  “Clarke and I talked already, it’s fine.”  A slight grin twitched on her lips at the pink flush on Lexa’s cheeks.  She swung the door wider for Lexa to enter and called out, “Clarke, Lexa’s here.”  She turned and grabbed her phone and handbag.  “Gotta go, Darren just dropped the kids off with the sitter and he’ll be here any minute.  I’ll see you later.  Oh,” she tossed over her shoulder with a laugh on her way out, “and for the love of God, you guys, _socks_!” 

Lexa groaned.  “We’re never going to live that down, are we?” 

“Nope,” Clarke said, grinning.  “And I don’t care, I’d do it again.”  She walked over and greeted Lexa with a chaste kiss.  “Hi,” she breathed, resting her forehead against Lexa’s.

Lexa’s nerves eased at Clarke’s touch.  Her pulse ticked up as she finally absorbed Clarke’s appearance.  Her hair swept up off her neck with a few deliberately messy tendrils escaping to frame her face.  She wore a midnight blue sheath dress with cap sleeves and a textured lace pattern that Lexa itched to feel beneath her hands.  Its slightly conservative boatneck neckline accented her collarbones.  The dress stretched just below the thigh and conformed softly to Clarke’s figure, highlighting the swell of her breasts and the curve of her hips.  Her cheeks pinked becomingly at the dazed expression on Lexa’s face.       

“Wow…Clarke…you look fantastic,” Lexa stuttered, rendered incapable of coherent speech.

“Flatterer,” Clarke said with a teasing smile.  She took in Lexa’s own ensemble appreciatively.  _Holy shit, now *that’s* a little black dress_.  The spaghetti straps and simple v-neck exposed Lexa’s tanned, toned shoulders and created a tantalizing hint of cleavage.  It clung to Lexa through the bodice and down, over her hips, nearly to her knee.  Clarke almost swallowed her tongue at the deep slit that reached just above mid-thigh, revealing a smooth expanse of firm muscle.  She wore her hair down, sun-lightened curls trickling loosely past her shoulders and down her back.  Clarke bit her lip and skimmed her hands lightly over the bare skin of Lexa’s upper arms.  “You’re pretty fantastic yourself.”  She arched a quizzical eyebrow at the hand Lexa was hiding behind her back.

“Oh!  I have something for you,” Lexa said shyly.  She brought her hand from behind her back and produced a small pot with a delicate, pale purple violet.  “It feels like our first date, even though it’s _not_ exactly a date, and I wanted to bring you flowers, but then I thought you wouldn’t have a vase to put them in and we’re leaving tomorrow and they’d just die anyway so I thought this might work better because it won’t die and you can take it home,” she babbled, “but I just realized that you might not like plants and maybe this was a stupid idea….”  She winced a little as her voiced trailed off.  _Stop talking, Lexa!_  

Clarke accepted the little plant wordlessly and set it on the windowsill.  She turned back to Lexa and quickly closed the distance between them.  She cradled Lexa’s cheek with one hand and whispered, “How are you even real?” before pulling Lexa into a kiss.  Lexa closed her eyes and sank into Clarke’s embrace, letting her arms drift around her back to hold her close as the kiss deepened.  Clarke held back a whimper as her hands skimmed down Lexa’s back and met nothing but heated skin, the deep vee of her dress falling to the small of her back.  A sudden burst of applause and catcalls cut through the haze and they broke apart with a start to see Raven, Anya, Octavia, and Lincoln in the open doorway cheering them on. 

Lexa sheepishly ducked her head against Clarke’s shoulder.  “It’s going to be a long night,” she lamented. 

Clarke gathered her composure and smirked in reply.  “I certainly hope so,” she murmured so that only Lexa could hear.  She kissed her cheek and turned to their friends.  “Ok, ok!  Show’s over!  We’ll be right there,” she admonished.  She slipped on a pair of heels and scooped up her purse.  “Ready?”

Lexa nodded.  _For you?  Always_.  She offered Clarke her hand and they walked out to meet their friends, together.

The six of them strolled toward the University Center.  “So, Clarke,” Octavia chirped innocently, her arm looped casually through Lincoln’s, “was there something wrong with your phone this afternoon?”

Clarke sighed.  “No, Octavia,” she muttered through her teeth.

“Because I only sent you like a dozen texts and a couple of voicemails.  We were _really worried_ when you two didn’t show up at Six Flags,” she scolded with feigned concern.

“Lexa and I were talking.”  Octavia shot her a level look.  “It was an important conversation!  I wasn’t paying attention to my phone!” Clarke insisted.  

“Uh huh.  Lexa, your phone went straight to voicemail.”  Octavia had a slight grin on her face, but her words contained the hint of a challenge.

Lexa shrugged a little defensively and the tips of her ears grew hot.  “I, uh, might have turned my phone off.  It was kind of hard to focus with phones going off every two minutes.”   

Octavia rolled her eyes.  “Whatever.  We put two and two together, but at first we thought you guys might have gotten in an accident or something.”

“Yeah, Clarke,” Raven chimed in, her eyes bright with merriment.  “We know how much you love roller coasters, it’s not like you to skip out.”

“I’d say she found her own thrill ride,” Anya commented in a snarky aside to Raven.  The two of them guffawed and high-fived.  Lexa gave them both a murderous glare.

“ _So_ ,” Octavia continued, eyeing their joined hands in bemusement, “how’d that conversation go?”

“O, can we at least make it to dinner before you interrogate us?!” Clarke complained.  “I’m starving, we kind of skipped lunch.”

“Oh, I _highly_ doubt that, Griffin,” Raven snickered.  She and Anya sported identical, shit-eating grins.

Clarke’s face burned.  “Oh my God, Rae, what are you, _twelve_?”

Raven left Anya’s side to walk behind Clarke and Lexa, draping one arm over each of their shoulders.  “Look, we’ve all been waiting—and rooting—for you two to get your shit together and _get_ together for _twenty freaking years_ , you’ve gotta expect us to give you _some_ shit.”  She gave them each a quick squeeze and a sly, knowing wink before letting go.  “But we’ll let you regain your strength before the real inquisition begins.”  She dropped back into step with Anya, and the conversation shifted to a recounting of the afternoon’s entertainment at Six Flags. 

They strolled into the Student Center and made their way to the ballroom.  Part of the room was blocked off for the dance floor; tables draped with white cloths filled the rest of the space.  They spotted Jasper, Monty, and Ontari and her husband already at a table, and made their way over.  They claimed the adjoining table and got drinks, then stood chatting with their friends until the waitstaff indicated dinner was about to be served. 

Clarke tuned the others out and tucked into the salad course with gusto.  Hunger momentarily alleviated, she relaxed and joined in with the easy banter around the table.  Clarke couldn’t help but steal glimpses of Lexa as they worked their way through their entrees and desserts: the flex of her jaw and snap of white teeth with each bite, the deft precision of her hands as she sliced into her prime rib, the glisten of her lips and slight bob of her throat with each sip of wine.  Her eyes caught Lexa’s own surreptitious glance and held it, Lexa’s small smile warming her.  The rest of the group followed their less-than-subtle interaction with barely-disguised mirth. 

Once the servers cleared away the meal, Lincoln got up to refresh drinks at the bar.  Lexa laid her napkin aside.  “I’ll go with you.”  She leaned toward Clarke and asked, “Can I get you anything?” 

Clarke’s body stirred at Lexa’s closeness.  “A Jack and Diet Coke would be great.”  Lexa nodded and headed for the bar.  Clarke’s eyes lingered on the curve of Lexa’s ass as she walked away.

Raven, Anya, and Octavia watched the exchange in amusement.  Octavia gestured between Clarke and Lexa.  “Ok, you two are gross,” she announced. 

“What?  We aren’t _doing_ anything—” Clarke spluttered.

Octavia scoffed.  “ _Please_ , you’ve been making heart eyes at each other all night.  Rae, back me up on this.”

“More like eyefucking,” Raven confirmed.  “You can barely keep your hands off each other.”  Her grin matched the wicked sparkle in her eyes.  “All right, spill it, Clarke.  What happened this afternoon?  And do _not_ say that ‘nothing happened,’ because we know damn well it did, and we can pretty well guess what even if I _hadn’t_ walked in on you in the shower.”

“Well, if you can already guess, why should I tell you?” Clarke sassed.  Raven’s eyes narrowed deviously, and Clarke continued hastily, “ _Fine_ , yes.  We talked—no, really!” She cut off Octavia’s disbelieving protest.  “We did.”  A dreamy smile played over her lips as she replayed the afternoon.

Raven smothered a laugh.  “Lexa must have a smooth tongue.”

“ _Oh_ , yeah,” Clarke murmured without thinking.  Her eyes widened and she blushed when she realized the slip. 

Raven took a sip of her cocktail and leaned back in her chair, smirking.  “Do tell.  Is she a cunning—”  She ducked at the napkin Clarke hurled at her.

“Oh my _God_ , Rae, _stop_!”

Even Anya gave her an exasperated look and shook her head.  “Yeah, that was really bad, babe.”

Raven huffed at the chastisement while Octavia retraced the thread.  “What did you talk about?”

Clarke threw a dirty look at Raven before answering.  “I told her how I feel about her,” she admitted.

“How you _really_ feel?” Octavia quizzed.

“Yeah.  We talked about _us_.  There’s an _us_ ,” Clarke marveled, almost in disbelief.

Octavia shook her head and smiled at her fondly.  “Clarke, you and Lexa have always been an _us_.  I’m just glad you finally see what we’ve all known for years.”

Clarke exhaled.  “It’s not that we didn’t _know_ , exactly, but somehow things got all twisted up and complicated, first with her dad, and then Costia…and Finn….”

Raven’s ears perked up.  “You never did say where you heard about Costia.”

Clarke caught Anya’s eye and slid away.  “It’s not important,” she said vaguely, waving Raven off.  “All that matters is that I think we’re _finally_ on the same page.”  She smiled shyly.  “I’m still processing it, to be honest.  This is definitely not how I imagined this weekend would go.”  _But oh, how I dreamed it might, wished it would._   “Anyway, we’ve still got a lot to figure out, I don’t think either of us know what’s going to happen when we go home.  I don’t want to mess it up.”  She felt a sudden rush of panic at the thought and whispered, almost to herself, “I don’t think I can bear to lose her again.”

Raven broke the momentary tension.  “All right, so you finally talked about your feelings.  And?” she prompted. 

“And what?” 

Raven rolled her eyes.  “The _sex_ , Clarke!” 

Clarke huffed in outrage.  “Ok, what the hell, Raven?!  I can’t believe you guys _bet_ on us!  How did that even happen?” 

The DJ started up as Clarke scolded, and they talked louder to be heard over the music.  Raven dismissed her remonstrances.  “It was when you went to jump the wall.  After the mud pit yesterday and the way you were checking each other out playing pool last night—any fool could see it was only a matter of time until you cracked.  Anya gave you until after the dance tonight, but with _that_ kind of thirst?  I bet you wouldn’t make it another day,” she said, grinning widely.  “Poor, deluded Octavia here thought you’d have the willpower to make it home.”  Octavia shook her head in mock despair at losing.  “So??  Come on, give!”

 _“Jesus_ , Raven, will you let it go?”  Clarke started to get irritated at Raven’s insistence on intimate details. 

“Ugh, _Clarrrke_ ,” Raven complained, “we watched you and Lexa lust after each other for years, at least tell us how it _was_ , finally.  Come on, was it slow and sweet?  Rough and dirty?  Were there fireworks?  Lexa seems like such a lovable nerd, but she’s got that little streak of steel, too,” she probed, with an suggestive waggle of her eyebrows.  Clarke gaped at her and she shrugged unapologetically.  “What?  Of course I’ve checked her out, she’s hot!”  Anya nodded along, conceding agreement, and Raven’s eyes narrowed at her before continuing.  “So—which is it?  Does she get all sensitive and let you take charge, or is she a tiger?”  At Clarke’s deep blush, Raven crowed, “Oh my God, she _is_!”  Anya cracked up at Clarke’s unwitting revelation. 

Clarke’s exasperation snapped.  “For fuck’s sake, Raven, she’s the best I’ve ever had, now will you give it a rest!” she said defiantly.

At Raven and Octavia’s wide eyes and barely-suppressed giggles, Clarke closed her eyes.  “Annnd she’s right behind me, isn’t she,” she groaned in resignation.  She twisted her head around to see Lexa at her shoulder with a drink in each hand.  The set of her jaw, the pink tinge of her cheeks, and the inscrutable look in her darkening eyes indicated that she had clearly heard Clarke’s reply.   

“Holy shit, this is worth the price of admission,” Anya choked out gleefully, wiping away tears of helpless laughter.

Lexa placed their drinks on the table and held her hand out to Clarke.  “Dance with me?” She asked simply.  Clarke took her hand with relief and followed her to the dance floor.  She relaxed and felt her tension ebb at Lexa’s touch. 

“Thanks for saving me from the inquisition,” she said loudly in Lexa’s ear.

Lexa laughed.  “Between Anya and Raven?  Told you it would be a long night.”

Clarke shook her head ruefully.  “You were so right.”

The DJ’s mix of 80s and 90s classics with more modern hits proved infectious, and soon all of their friends had joined them on the floor.  Lexa’s chest swelled with so much joy at watching their antics that she thought it might burst:  Clarke, Octavia, and Raven leaning together and bouncing up and down to chant along with “Hey Mickey”…the whole group howling with laughter at Monty’s frenetic rendition of “Whip It”…Anya and Raven grinning at each other, locked in a dirty grind...Jasper doing the robot…Ontari, carefree for once, blissfully absorbed in dancing with her husband…Lincoln, backed by two of his frat brothers, exaggeratedly serenading Octavia with “I’ll Make Love to You.”  She swallowed tightly, the full realization of how much she’d missed this easy camaraderie finally hitting her.  Clarke picked up on her shift in mood and gave her a questioning look.  Lexa smiled and shook her head, drawing Clarke in as one song transitioned to the next.  “Second chances,” she said into Clarke’s ear. 

Clarke nodded understanding and moved closer, finding the rhythm of the new song.  She laced her hands together at Lexa’s nape and instinctively synced her hips with Lexa’s and the beat of the song.  The heat of Lexa’s hands sliding down her sides to rest just above the swell of her ass relit the fire in her belly and she suddenly registered the lyrics she’d been unconsciously mouthing along with the song.  “ _It’s getting hot in here…so take off all your clothes….”_ Her eyes snapped to Lexa’s.  The slight hitch in Lexa’s breath marked her as similarly affected.  The intense green of her eyes glinted and her hot breath tickled Clarke’s ear.  “So I’m the best you’ve ever had?”  Her eyebrows quirked upward lazily and a smug, sexy smile lurked on her lips.  Clarke’s whole body flushed at Lexa’s meaning and her core throbbed at the sultry timbre of her voice.  She leaned into Lexa and replied with a husky rasp, “Fuck, Lex, we’re in the middle of the floor surrounded by all our friends and I’m still _thisclose_ to telling you to take me right now.”  She punctuated the declaration with a tiny nip on Lexa’s earlobe.  Lexa sucked in a breath and tightened her grip at Clarke’s waist.  She was just about to hustle Clarke to the nearest exit, dancing be damned, when the music shifted to the strains of the Electric Slide and a squealing Octavia broke them apart and herded them into line for the dance.

*****

Anya kept a vigilant eye on Raven all evening.  When she spotted a hitch in Raven’s gait, she put a hand on her elbow and cocked her head toward the edge of the floor.  “Want to get some air?”  Raven nodded and took her arm.  She leaned on Anya for support as they walked onto the dimly-lit rooftop patio.  They could still hear the music thumping, but it was muted and much quieter outside.  There were only a few other people outside, smoking or chatting quietly, and they had the space almost to themselves.  Raven sank into a chair with a small sound of relief.  Anya angled a second chair beside her and sat down.  She scooped up Raven’s legs without comment, laid them across her lap, and began to gently massage the spots she knew from experience would be the most sore. 

Raven let her head droop against the backrest.  “That feels so much better,” she sighed as Anya’s hands soothed the pain. 

“I knew your stubborn ass would keep dancing until your damn leg fell off,” Anya groused lightly.  “ _Some_ body’s gotta look out for you.”

Anya heard the smile in Raven’s voice.  “Yeah, you’re really good at that.”  Raven reached down and took one of Anya’s hands in hers and brought it to her lips, brushing a kiss across her  knuckles.  “It’s one of the things I love about you.”  Her eyes widened and she wondered if Anya had noticed, hoping on one level that she hadn’t, but secretly, on a deeper level in which she rarely let herself indulge, hoping that she had. 

Anya’s hand stilled on Raven’s leg.  Her heart tripped in her chest as her eyes traced Raven’s profile in the low light.  _It’s only been a few months....How can I possibly be in this deep?_ She thought about what Clarke said to her earlier.  _Was that really just this morning?_   And Lexa, so stubborn for so long.  _I don’t want to miss my chance like that.  And if *Lexa* can woman up, then what the hell is stopping me?  For fuck’s sake, people have *shot* at me, how can I be so scared of three little words?_  She took a deep breath and said casually, her hand trembling on Raven’s leg, “Yeah, well, I just love _you_.”

“What did you just say?” Raven said in a hushed voice.  Her hand tightened on Anya’s. 

Anya gulped and squared her jaw.  “I said, _I love you_ ,” she said deliberately.  “I know we’ve only been seeing each other a few months, and we only just made it official, and maybe it’s too soon…hell, you know I’m no good at this shit.”  Anya shifted uncomfortably, but gathered her resolve and continued.  “But Rae…I think I’ve gone my whole life hiding bits of myself from people because I’m afraid they can’t handle  my fucked-up, jagged edges, or because I have to show that I’m strong.  But _you_ …you’ve always cut right through all of that.  Even when we were in school.  I don’t think I ever intimidated you, you’re just fearless.  And you’re brilliant, and outrageous, and stubborn, and funny— _God_ , you make me laugh—and you _see_ me.  I don’t want to hide pieces of myself from you—I couldn’t if I tried.  I’m crazy about you, Raven,” she whispered, her voice cracking at the end. 

Anya began to panic when Raven silently released her hand and extricated her legs from Anya’s grip.  “Raven, please—don’t go,” she protested desperately as Raven stood up.  Instead of leaving, though, Raven hitched up the hem of her dress so that she could settle herself onto Anya’s lap. 

“Shh.  Shut up,” Raven whispered insistently.  She gently cradled Anya’s cheeks with both hands and gazed into her eyes with affectionate ferocity.  She lowered her lips to Anya’s, pouring the intensity of her emotions into the kiss.  She eventually pulled back to catch her breath and rested her forehead against Anya’s, her dark eyes liquid in the shadows, both of their hearts thundering.  “Do you know why _I_ love _you_?” Raven asked quietly.  Anya’s eyes grew big and she gave a tiny, mute shake of her head.  Raven stroked away the damp streaks on Anya’s face with her thumbs.  “You’re right—you’ve never intimidated me.  Because I _do_ see you.  You put on a hard exterior, all gruff and tough.  But underneath it, you care _so_ much, about everyone, but especially me.  The way you watch out for me—the little things, like tonight,” she wiped a stray tear from her own eye.  “I always have to put up a strong front, too, especially after the accident.  But with you—you see _me_ , and I don’t have to pretend.  You challenge me, you call me out on my bullshit, but you also make me feel safe, and cared for, and I just…I want to be that person for you.  I want to be the one to take care of _you_ , because you are so, _so_ worth it to me.”

They melted into each other’s embrace, the caress of hands and slide of lips articulating more eloquently than words the sentiment in their hearts.  Long, languid moments later, Anya nipped Raven with her teeth and breathed, “You’re going to wrinkle your dress.”  

Raven sank her fingers into Anya’s hair and mumbled against her lips, “It’s gonna get even more wrinkled on your bedroom floor later, so who gives a fuck?”  They spiraled into each other again, losing all sense of time.  A loud burst of music from inside finally jolted them back to reality.  Octavia and Lincoln had just stepped outside and were scanning the darkened patio.  Raven and Anya disentangled from each other and got to their feet, waving them over.

“Have you guys been out here this whole time?  It’s been ages,” Octavia said with a mock frown. 

“Uh, yeah, we were just talking,” Raven said evasively. 

Octavia rolled her eyes.  “Since when is everyone suddenly such great conversationalists?”

“My leg was bothering me, I needed to sit for a while,” Raven added defensively.

“I’m just giving you shit, Rae,” Octavia said, grinning.  “You two can ‘talk’ all you want, but Linc and I are heading out.”  She hugged Raven goodnight and nodded at Anya.

“Ok, we’ll see you in the morning.  Oh!  What about Clarke and Lexa?”

Octavia shook her head and gestured at the dance floor.  “See for yourself.  They’ve been like that nearly all night.”  They looked through the glass to see the pair dancing closely, arms around each other and Clarke’s head on Lexa’s shoulder.  The group outside watched them in comfortable silence for a few moments.  Lincoln slid his arm around Octavia’s waist and she rested her head against his chest.  “They’re so gross,” she commented, smiling fondly.  “If anyone deserves to be together, they do.  It’s about damn time.” 

“It really is,” Raven added.  She leaned back against Anya, who wrapped both arms around her and nestled her chin into Raven’s shoulder.  She felt Anya’s smile as their cheeks brushed together.  “I still can’t believe it took them this long.  We should have locked them in a room together twenty years ago and not let them out until they got their shit together.” 

Octavia glanced over at her and rolled her eyes.  “Speaking of getting their shit together,” she muttered.  “All right, we’re going.  We’ll see you at brunch tomorrow, you two have a good night.”

Raven tilted her head to look in Anya’s eyes and said softly, without her usual snarky innuendo, “Yeah, we will.”

Octavia raised her eyebrows.  She shot the pair a suspicious look, but kept her own counsel. 

*****

On the dance floor, Clarke had long since lost track of their friends, time, even the music itself.  Lexa filled all of her senses: the press of her hands on Clarke’s hips setting their rhythm, the silky warmth of her shoulder radiating against Clarke’s cheek, the delicate tickle and subtle fragrance of her hair enveloping her.  Her heart clutched at Lexa’s blissful expression.  A faint smile played at the corners of her mouth.  Her forehead was smooth and free of the tiny stress lines that often marked it now.  _She still dances with her eyes closed_.  This small detail threatened to undo Clarke’s composure completely.  She exhaled slowly, quietly, and burrowed a little deeper into the juncture of Lexa’s neck.  

A new song began to play: a slow, muted melody, guitar slowly crescendoing to a piercing, soul-penetrating vibrato.  Lexa shifted her arms to draw Clarke into a closer embrace, until their bodies nearly merged as one.  Lexa’s chest vibrated against Clarke’s and her breath warmed her ear.  Clarke tipped her head back to find vivid green eyes drinking her in as Lexa sang softly to her.

_“You say you'll give me_

_A highway with no one on it_

_Treasure just to look upon it_

_All the riches in the night_

_You say you'll give me_

_Eyes in the moon of blindness_

_A river in a time of dryness_

_A harbor in the tempest_

_But all the promises we make_

_From the cradle to the grave_

_When all I want is you.”_

Clarke’s eyes met Lexa’s and the rest of the room faded away as they swayed together.  The air thickened between them until Clarke could hardly breathe.  She slowly leaned in and joined her lips with Lexa’s, both of them sighing in relief as their tension released at the other’s touch.  The unrelenting pulse of the music, the raw emotion upon Lexa’s face as she sang, and the slow, tender slide of their lips as they kissed rocked Clarke to her foundation.  As the song died away, she broke the kiss and gazed searchingly at Lexa, who appeared just as thoroughly shaken and dazed as Clarke.  “Take me home, Lexa,” she whispered urgently.

Lexa nodded without speaking and led her off the dance floor.  They paused at the table long enough to collect their belongings and made for the door, little noticing that their friends had long since disappeared.  They walked toward the dorm with purpose, shooting each other charged sidelong glances and twining their arms around each other’s waists, unwilling to break the physical contact.  Halfway there, Lexa halted abruptly.  “Clarke, shit—we can’t,” she said in horrified realization, “Julia’s in my room.  And you’ve got Harper in yours.” 

Clarke laughed at the frustration apparent on her face.  “I talked to Harper earlier.  She’s staying with her husband at his hotel, they wanted some alone time tonight.  We’ve got my room all to ourselves.”  She kissed Lexa’s neck, murmuring, “No interruptions.”  Lexa shuddered at the sensation and the anticipation and resumed their hurried pace.  Clarke giggled at her eagerness.

When they reached Clarke’s room, Clarke unlocked the door and led Lexa in by the hand.  Lexa followed her in and stepped straight into her arms.  They held each other for a long while, content to simply absorb and savor the new sensation of being _together_. 

Clarke broke the contact reluctantly.  “Hold that thought,” she said, leaving a quick peck on Lexa’s lips.  She rummaged quickly through her suitcase and crossed to the door.  She fussed with something on the outside, closed it firmly, and returned to Lexa’s arms.  “Socks,” she said succinctly.  Lexa smiled against her mouth as they kissed again, lazy and unrushed.  She shifted her weight to draw closer to Clarke and winced at the pinch of her heels. 

“What’s wrong?” Clarke asked with a slight frown.

“It’s nothing, I’m just not used to wearing heels.  They make my feet hurt.”

“Tell me about it,” Clarke commiserated.  She toed her own shoes off and nonchalantly kicked them aside.  Lexa started to bend down to unfasten the clasp on her own, but Clarke’s hand on her wrist stopped her.  “Let me,” she said in a husky voice.  Clarke knelt in front of her and carefully worked the little buckles free.  Lexa stepped out of first one shoe, then the other.  Her body heated and her pulse thudded heavily at the sight of Clarke on her knees before her.  Clarke gazed up at her with dark eyes.  Lexa’s skin blazed as Clarke ran her hands slowly up Lexa’s calves to rest at the back of her thighs.  She leaned in and pressed kisses to the inside of Lexa’s knees, edging the hem of her dress higher as she inched her way upward in minute increments.  “This slit in your dress has been driving me crazy all night,” Clarke mumbled against her inner thigh in between kisses.  “All this skin…I wanted to touch you so bad.”

Lexa gasped and threaded her fingers through Clarke’s hair, messily raking it out of its updo.  “Clarke…Clarke, wait,” she croaked, reluctantly tugging at Clarke’s hair and shoulder until she got to her feet again. 

“You don’t want me to?” Clarke asked curiously, masking her disappointment. 

“No!  I mean _yes_ , I do,” Lexa blurted quickly.  “Just…not yet.  We’ve got all night, I want to take my time…make it last….” 

“I won’t argue with that,” Clarke smirked.  Lexa connected their lips again, one hand at Clarke’s nape holding her steady as her tongue chased away remnants of her lip gloss and slowly, sensually, twisted with Clarke’s own.  Their kisses soon grew more heated, playing over jawlines and pulse points.  On reaching the neckline of Clarke’s dress, Lexa observed with annoyance, “You have on too many clothes.”

“I thought you wanted to take it slow,” Clarke said teasingly.

“Slow, Clarke, not glacial,” Lexa retorted drily.

Clarke turned her back to Lexa and looked at her over her shoulder, moving her hair aside.  She bit her lip coquettishly.  “Unzip me?”

The visual nearly made Lexa abandon all thought of “slow.”  She clung to her composure and unzipped Clarke’s dress with shaking fingers, pressing a kiss to the base of her neck and murmuring, “You’re such a tease.”  She undressed her carefully, layering kisses over the warm skin she revealed as she eased the dress to the floor, reveling in Clarke’s soft sighs of enjoyment.  Clarke finally stepped out of it and faced Lexa again, clad only in a black satin bra and skimpy panties.  Lexa drank her in appreciatively, eyes lingering on her cleavage.

Clarke pulled her in for another kiss, humming at Lexa’s touch on her bare back.  “I guess that answers one question,” she said.

Lexa’s eyes snapped back to Clarke’s.  “Huh?”

“Whether you’re a boob or ass girl,” Clarke giggled.

Lexa blushed and rolled her eyes.  In between kisses, she replied, “With boobs like yours, who wouldn’t be?”  She mouthed down Clarke’s neck and closer to the area in question.

“Flatterer,” Clarke said fondly.

“Seriously, Clarke, it’s a good thing that dress wasn’t low cut, we might not have made it out the door,” Lexa rambled fervently, closing her eyes and brushing her nose over the swell of Clarke’s breasts.  “You have no idea how many times I’ve imagined touching your breasts…burying my face in that deep valley between them…feeling them shudder and bounce against mine when you lose control….”  She reached back to unfasten Clarke’s bra, but Clarke swatted her hand away playfully.

“Now who’s wearing too many clothes?” she said, pointedly looking Lexa up and down, her own face flushed and clearly affected by Lexa’s words.  

Lexa lowered her hands to the hem of her skirt.  She ducked her head and looked up at Clarke through her lashes.  “A little help?” she asked with faux innocence.  It was Clarke’s turn to keep tenuous hold of her self control.  She took Lexa’s skirt in her hands and slowly dragged it up her body, skimming her hands over her hips and ribcage as she went.  Lexa raised her arms above her head and let Clarke finish the job herself.  The dress fabric cleared Lexa’s head and Clarke groaned aloud at the sight of Lexa’s bare breasts pouting before her.  She tossed the dress carelessly toward her desk chair and advanced on Lexa, almost growling as she crowded her back and onto her bed. 

“That dress should be illegal,” Clarke complained jokingly, crawling onto the bed next to her.  “Every time I touched your back it reminded me you weren’t wearing a bra…and fuck, that _tattoo.._..”  A bolt of heat shot between her legs in anticipation of tracing the intricate pattern, first with her fingers, then with her tongue.  Their mouths joined again, tongues plunging and clashing in earnest now.  Clarke shifted her body over Lexa’s and began easing her onto her back.  Lexa tried to prop herself up on one elbow, but Clarke put her hand to Lexa’s sternum and pushed her back firmly.  “Relax,” she urged, silencing Lexa’s half-hearted protest with a kiss.  “We’ve got all night,” she cajoled, echoing Lexa’s earlier remark.  “Just…let me.  Please?” 

Eagerness and desire shone in Clarke’s eyes, and Lexa didn’t need to be asked twice.  She laid back agreeably and drank in the flex of Clarke’s thighs as she straddled Lexa’s leg.  Her hands crept up and absently ghosted patterns on the outside of Clarke’s legs.  Clarke’s breath caught, not just at the almost-ticklish sensation, but at the panorama spread beneath her: the scatter of Lexa’s unruly hair across the pillow, her heavy-lidded eyes dark with passion, her red, kiss-bruised lips, slightly parted and begging for more attention.  “You’re so beautiful,” Clarke blurted.  The pink in Lexa’s cheeks deepened.  “How did I ever go so long without telling you that?” she said under her breath.  She bent down to kiss her, planting her hands on either side of Lexa’s face and drawing Lexa’s plump lower lip between her own.  As she did, her unbound hair cascaded across Lexa’s body.  Lexa squirmed at the exquisite torture of the silky golden strands rippling over and further exciting her sensitive flesh. 

As the kiss intensified, Clarke lowered her body until her bra just brushed against Lexa’s chest.  Clarke grumbled at the unsatisfying contact.  She pulled away and sat back on her haunches.  She locked eyes with Lexa and bit her lower lip, reaching behind her back to unhook her own bra.  The straps slipped down her shoulders and she let the cups fall slowly off her body before flinging the garment aside and baring herself for Lexa’s gaze.  Lexa’s eyes grew huge.  She automatically raised her hands to Clarke’s breasts, eager to cup their weight.  Clarke caught her wrists before they reached their destination, though, and gently, but firmly, placed them back on her hips. 

“Shhh,” she soothed Lexa’s whine.  Clarke bent forward once more.  She slowly, deliberately, settled her body against Lexa’s and brought their breasts together.  Lexa’s jaw fell open and Clarke moaned loudly as their erect nipples rubbed against each other.  “Mm, Lexa, you feel so good,” Clarke said in a throaty purr.  She hovered over Lexa, purposely dragging her breasts back and forth over Lexa’s.  “I love having your boobs pressed up against mine,” she growled, “your hard little nipples catching against me every time we move.  It’s such a fucking turn on.”  Every undulation of her chest caused Clarke’s thigh to rock against Lexa’s center and her own hips to slide along Lexa’s leg, until they were outright grinding against each other.  Lexa’s fingers dug into Clarke’s hips as she bucked against her.  A sheen of sweat began to bead at her hairline.  Her breath grew shallow and the familiar tightness built in her lower belly. 

And then Clarke stopped.  Sat back. Edged her body backward and withdrew her knee from Lexa.  “ _Clarke_ ,” Lexa whimpered in frustration.

Clarke grinned.  “Not yet,” she tutted impishly.  “Slow, remember?”

“Oh, you’re going to pay,” Lexa warned darkly. 

Clarke got comfortable against Lexa again and drew her into an increasingly dirty kiss.  She planted sloppy kisses down the slender column of Lexa’s neck, feeling a possessive frisson in her belly on seeing the blossoming bruise she’d left earlier.  Her focus tracked lower, finally cupping a breast with one hand and taking it into the wet heat of her mouth.  Clarke took her time lavishing gentle kisses and the occasional, rougher scrape of teeth over the baby-smooth flesh of first one breast, then the other.  Lexa’s pleased hisses and low moans stoked the liquid heat blooming between Clarke’s legs, and she squirmed restlessly in anticipation.  She drew lazy circles around Lexa’s nipples with her tongue and fingertips, finally relenting and taking an engorged bud between her lips and fluttering her tongue against it.  Lexa gasped and arched into Clarke’s mouth.  Her hands threaded through Clarke’s hair and clutched her head tightly to her breast, silently encouraging Clarke to suckle harder.  “ _Fuck_ , Clarke,” she panted as her eyes squeezed shut.

Clarke hummed a laugh and released Lexa’s nipple with a wet pop.  “It’s so unfair,” she murmured.  She kept teasing the shiny peak with her tongue, but her hands meandered further south, playing over the firm muscle of Lexa’s stomach. 

“What’s unfair?” Lexa’s voice caught on the question as Clarke’s fingers toyed at her navel.

Clarke punctuated her words with kisses.  “ _You_ are.  Your gorgeous face…that magnificent mane of hair…legs for days… _and_ you’ve got perky boobs.  _So_ unfair,” she said in mock complaint. 

“Oh, please, Clarke,” Lexa scoffed.  “They’re just small.  _You’re_ the one with perfect boobs.  So nice and firm, and the way they fill my hands— _Ohh_ ,” she rambled breathlessly. 

“Flattery will get you everywhere,” Clarke beamed wickedly.  She stroked Lexa’s clit over her underwear again, enjoying the enthusiastic reaction it elicited.  Her fingers plucked at the band of Lexa’s panties.  Lexa nodded eagerly.  She lifted her hips to help Clarke tug them off and parted her legs impatiently.  Clarke crushed her lips to Lexa’s in a messy, open-mouthed kiss just as she palmed her pussy and teased her fingers through Lexa’s soaked folds.  Lexa keened and loosed a string of curses and pleas into Clarke’s mouth.  She gripped Clarke’s back so tightly her blunt nails scored tiny indentations. 

Clarke patiently worked Lexa up, her own arousal heightened by each whimper and “yes” and shudder.  She circled two fingers just outside Lexa’s entrance and paused, smirking, eyebrows quirked.  Lexa’s eyes flew to her and she nodded vigorously.  “Please please yes,” she begged, her hips bucking up in search of Clarke’s touch.  Clarke finally ended her torment by sliding two fingers inside and steadily building up her pace.  Lexa’s guttural moans and ragged breaths and the slippery heat of her stretching around Clarke’s fingers soon had Clarke nearing the edge herself, and she unconsciously began grinding her center against Lexa’s thigh. 

“Mmph, Clarke,” Lexa panted in an urgent whisper, “Take your panties off…please, I want to feel you—in me, on me, everywhere.”  Clarke drew away long enough to comply and sank back into Lexa.  She groaned long and loud at the searing heat of Lexa’s skin against her own naked flesh.  She began moving against Lexa with abandon, pumping her fingers deeper and faster and slicking her arousal up and down Lexa’s thigh.  She kept her gaze focused on Lexa: her eyes screwed shut, a tiny furrow of concentration on her brow, her breasts jiggling deliciously with each motion, the litany of hushed words tripping unconsciously from her lips.  _I love her so much_. 

She could tell Lexa was almost there when her hips began canting up in a feverish rhythm.  Clarke added a third finger and thumbed light pressure over Lexa’s clit with every thrust.  Lexa’s back arched off the bed.  “ _Fuck_!  Right there!” she chanted, greedily riding Clarke’s fingers until her body seized and her climax ripped through her with white-hot intensity.  Clarke slowed her hand, carefully working her down, even as the thrill and pride at putting such pleased slackness on Lexa’s face intensified her own stimulation.  She rode Lexa’s thigh faster, closing in on her own pleasure.  Lexa finally opened her eyes, and the look of sleepy satisfaction Clarke saw in them— _I put that there_ —sent her tumbling over the edge calling Lexa’s name.  She shuddered through the aftershocks and collapsed in a heap, spent and sweaty, alongside Lexa’s body. 

Lexa gathered her in one arm and drew her in for a sweet, languid kiss.  “I love you,” she whispered, still marveling that she could finally say the words. 

“Love you, too,” Clarke mumbled.  She felt exhaustion pricking at the corners of her vision.  Her eyes slid shut to the sound of Lexa’s soft praise and warm lips against her temple.

*****

Clarke woke with a start.  The pleasant warmth of a body stretched out beside her momentarily disoriented her, until she remembered.  She relaxed and rolled on her side to find Lexa with her head propped on one hand, watching her with a contented smile.  The smile faded a little when she realized Clarke was awake.  “Sorry, I wasn’t really watching you sleep.  I mean, ok, I _was_ ,” she conceded, “but I didn’t mean it in, like, a creepy way,” Lexa explained awkwardly.

Clarke fumbled for her hand and took it.   “I know, babe, it’s ok.”  She frowned and licked dry lips.  “How long was I asleep?”

“Not long.  Maybe twenty minutes.  You just sort of passed out.”

“Sorry,” Clarke said, a little embarrassed.  “I do that sometimes after a really intense…you know.” 

Lexa snuggled closer to her until their noses almost brushed.  A grin flitted at her lips.  “Wow, just humping my thigh was intense enough to knock you out?” she teased.

Clarke laughed, but her eyes met Lexa’s and held them.  “Of course.  I mean, it’s _you_ , Lex.  _Every_ time with you is intense.” 

Lexa’s jaw worked and her eyes darkened with strong emotion.  “Then you’re going to need another nap soon,” she husked, angling her lips to meet Clarke’s, “because I’m nowhere near done with you.”

Lexa nudged Clarke onto her back and took control.  She rained open-mouthed kisses down Clarke’s body.  She lingered at Clarke’s cleavage, licking away the sweat between her breasts with the broad flat of her tongue.  Lexa relished the soft pressure of Clarke’s body beneath her and the needy sounds that escaped her throat when Lexa’s hot tongue swirled over an achingly taut nipple.  She reluctantly abandoned Clarke’s breasts with a final, tantalizing kiss, making a mental promise to devote quality time to them in the near future. 

Clarke ran her fingers through Lexa’s tangled, sweat-matted hair.  “Wow, that’s all you can manage for _perfect_ boobs,” she razzed, smirking.

Lexa sucked a kiss against Clarke’s belly hard enough to leave a mark and wipe the smirk off her face.  She soothed the spot with her tongue and drifted lower.  “I have more pressing pursuits in mind,” she said silkily.  Her very tone made Clarke shiver and ignited a resurgence of heat between her legs.  Lexa gently prodded her hip and Clarke readily opened her legs.  Her pulse quickened once more as she watched Lexa situate herself between them.  Lexa ran her hands up the inside of Clarke’s thighs, ever-so-lightly raking her nails over the sensitive skin and making Clarke tremble with anticipation.  Evidence of Clarke’s first orgasm streaked the tops of her thighs and the rich smell of her fresh arousal assailed Lexa’s senses.  She breathed deeply, absorbing the full swath of _Clarke_ : the heat radiating from her center in waves; the deep rosy hue of her lips, slick and open and inviting; her scent, so heady Lexa could almost taste it.  She arranged Clarke’s legs over her shoulders and slid her hands under her ass to spread her wider and ground her. 

Lexa looked up Clarke’s body and captured her gaze with eyes that sparkled with mischief and lust.  She kept eye contact for an agonizing extra beat, just long enough to make Clarke twitch her hips unconsciously, craving Lexa’s mouth on her.  Lexa grinned wickedly and said, “Get comfortable, Clarke—I told you I want to take my time.”

The words sent a flood of heat rushing over Clarke’s body, taking up throbbing residence in her nipples and her core.  When Lexa finally brought her mouth to Clarke’s pussy, she let out a loud, unreserved groan and let her head fall back against the pillow.  “ _Fuck_ , Lexa!” 

Lexa was true to her word.  She teased her tongue over Clarke’s clit and through her folds, varying her pace and intensity—soft suction here, a sudden, firm flick there—carefully sussing out the spots and pressure that elicited throaty cries and demanding curses.  She worked Clarke up, bringing her just to the brink and then scaling back and letting her settle down, only to begin all over again.  A few episodes of this treatment soon reduced Clarke to a gibbering, quivering mess.  She rutted her pussy against Lexa’s mouth, desperate for the friction that would finally unleash the throbbing ache in her belly.  Lexa drew back, breaking the contact, and Clarke loosed a muted scream of frustration.  She raised up on both elbows to stare crossly at Lexa.

Lexa’s lips twitched, but she said solemnly, “Payback’s a bitch, Clarke.”

Despite her agitated state, Clarke fought back a laugh.  “Dammit, Lexa, I swear if you don’t— _oooh_!”  The flick of Lexa’s tongue on her clit silenced her.

“What’s the magic word, Clarke?” Lexa inquired coyly.

“ _Please_ , Lex!  Please please _please_!” Clarke blurted, finally abandoning her pride in search of relief. 

“That’s my girl,” Lexa hummed in smug satisfaction.  She lowered her mouth back to Clarke and bent to her task in earnest this time.  She found the rhythm that Clarke craved and lapped into her.  As she felt Clarke’s release building, she held her firmly with one hand and with the other, slipped two fingers inside her.  Clarke’s legs clamped around Lexa’s head and she cursed a blue streak.  Lexa tapped her lightly with her free hand and Clarke looked down her body to make eye contact with Lexa, green eyes blazing with intensity and Clarke’s own blown wide.  The visual of Lexa’s cheeks hollowing as she gently sucked and fluttered her tongue over her clit, combined with her slender fingers stroking and curling deep inside her propelled Clarke past the breaking point.  She shattered loudly and beautifully on Lexa’s tongue, her walls pulsating and clenching around Lexa’s driving fingers.  She flopped limply on the bed, gasping for breath and jerking and hissing with aftershocks as Lexa withdrew her fingers and slowly brought her back to earth with gentle kisses. 

Clarke cracked an eye, but otherwise lay motionless as Lexa crawled up her body and curled herself against Clarke’s side.  “Holy fuck, Lex,” Clarke managed.  “You are really fucking good at that,” she babbled, still euphoric in the afterglow.  “C’mere,” she said, weakly flapping a hand toward her face.

Lexa’s smile stretched ear to ear.  She shimmied up Clarke’s sweat-soaked body and kissed her softly.  Clarke hummed at her own taste on Lexa’s lips.  They stayed tucked together, trading contented, tender kisses. 

“Was that intense enough?  Are you going to pass out?” Lexa teased.

Clarke laughed breathily.  “I dunno.  I should.  I think you broke me.  That was, like, a whole other level beyond intense.”  Lexa beamed proudly, if a little self-consciously.  “Seriously, babe—what you do to me….” Clarke shook her head in amazed disbelief. 

Lexa wiggled closer and wrapped her arm around Clarke, spooning her snugly against her own body.  She smoothed Clarke’s wild tangle of hair and feathered tiny kisses upon her shoulder and upper arm.  “You have the same effect on me,” she said simply.  “I mean, physically, sure—when you touch me—hell, just when you’re _near_ me sometimes—you take my breath away.  It’s never been like this with anyone else.  But it’s more than that, what you do to me.  I want to be close to you, to see you smile— _I_ want to be the one to make you smile.  I want all the little things—getting to hear about the goofy story you heard on NPR on the way to work, or making you eat chicken soup and stay home from work when you’re sick because you refuse to take care of yourself, that skip I get in my belly when you make that face, like you’re about to make a really snarky comment and you know it.  I want that.  I want all of you.” 

Clarke made an inarticulate noise.  Lexa felt her trembling.

“Clarke, what is it?  Are you ok?  Was it something I said?” Lexa frowned in concern.

“ _No_ —it’s not that.  Just…can we just stay here?  I don’t want to go home.”  She twisted in Lexa’s arms so they were face to face.  “I’m scared, Lexa,” she whispered.

Lexa’s arms tightened around her, as if to create a sheltering cocoon.  “What are you afraid of?” she asked quietly.

 _That I’ll mess this up. That this is just a dream.  That we won’t work out.  That I’ll have to go back to living without you._   “You,” Clarke said without thinking, reaching up to trace a finger over Lexa’s cheekbone.  “ _Us_.  It all seems great here, but how do we do this when we get home?  We live in different parts of town, I work long hours, you travel, I have a cat—do you even _like_ cats?” she wondered wildly.  “How are we going to make this work, Lex?” she asked desperately.  Her emotions were already stretched to the limit, and she felt panic beginning to take hold. 

“Shh, Clarke,” Lexa soothed, running a calming hand up her arm.  She took a deep breath.  “I don’t know, either.  But we’ll figure it out—we _will_ ,” she insisted, tipping her forehead to rest on Clarke’s.  “It might not be easy at first, but we can do this.  Our jobs, our homes—I do like cats—those are just details.  I know they’re important,” she said quickly, “but none of that is what matters most to me.  You do.  I’ve been in love with you forever, and I’ve got a second chance I never thought I’d have and I’ll do whatever it takes to hold onto it—to _you_.  If you’ll have me.”

Clarke let out a choked sob at that.  * _If* I’ll have her—silly woman, of course I will._  

“With Costia,” Lexa’s throat tightened a little at saying her name, “I made mistakes.  I didn’t make enough time for her, I didn’t let her all the way in—because you were already there,” she added meaningfully.  “I’m scared, too, Clarke, but all I’m scared of is losing you.” 

Clarke drew her in for a long, tender kiss.  “How do you do that?” she asked, brushing away tears.  “Wreck me without even trying?”  She burrowed deeper into Lexa’s embrace and drew strength from her closeness.  After a few moments, she asked tentatively.  “When did you know?  That you loved me, I mean?”

Lexa laid her head back on the pillow and reflected for a moment.  “I think it was that day in the attic,” she said slowly.  She turned her head to look at Clarke.  “I found you crying about your friend, and all I wanted to do was hold you until the pain went away.  I didn’t realize it right then, and I didn’t admit it to myself for a long time, but that was it for me.  _You_ were it.” 

“For me, it was when you went to Prague.  You were so excited, and I tried so hard to be excited for you, but I dreaded you leaving and I didn’t know why.  And then you were gone, and it was like I had this giant fucking hole ripped in me.  Nothing seemed right while you were away, there were these big pieces missing and this awful ache where they used to be.  It took me a long time to understand.  I’m scared of losing you, too.  You make me finally feel whole.”

Lexa snuffled back her own tears and hugged her fiercely, burying her face in the crook of Clarke’s neck.  She got her emotions under control and asked, “Clarke?” her voice muffled by Clarke’s hair.

“Hmm?”

Lexa lifted her head.  “Did you just _Jerry Maguire_ me?”  At Clarke’s puzzled frown, she added, a smirk lurking on her lips, “You know, ‘you complete me?’”  Clarke gaped at her in mock offense and swatted at her head.  Lexa ducked and sassed, “Clarke, I am not Renee Zellweger.” 

Clarke groaned and pulled Lexa into her.  “You _suck_ ,” she said, laughing against Lexa’s cheek.

“You weren’t complaining a little while ago,” Lexa murmured, just before their lips met in a lazy kiss. 

“We’re gonna be ok, aren’t we,” Clarke said, a statement, not a question.

“Yeah, we are,” Lexa said firmly.  “I’m in this.  In fact—”  Her eyes took on a sudden inspired gleam.  She shifted up onto one elbow and looked down at Clarke.  “Do you still want to go to Prague?”

Clarke gave her a bewildered look.  “Huh?”

“Prague.  Remember?  We were going to go that summer, but then Dad had his stroke and I freaked out on you,” she looked away shamefaced for a moment, “and we never went.”

“Yeah, I remember, but what’s that got to do with—”

“I have a work trip coming up in September.  I’m going to talk to my division chief about scaling back the travel when we get home—I was planning to do it anyway, but now I have extra incentive—but this one’s important and I’ll probably still need to go.”  Her eyes shone and she gained enthusiasm for the idea as she explained.  “But you could come with me—not for the whole thing, but maybe for some of it?” she said hopefully.

“But how—”

“Prague, Clarke.  Part of the trip is to Prague,” Lexa interrupted hurriedly.  “I know we’re barely even together and it’s probably way too soon to even bring it up, but it kind of seems like a sign.  A second chance at the beginning we could have had all those years ago.  It’s not just about travel and seeing the city.”  She struggled to find the words.  “It’s about letting you in.  Sharing life and experiences and hardships and triumphs with you.  I couldn’t do it with…anyone else.  But I’ve always wanted that with you.  Will you think about it?”

 _Vacation in a romantic European city with my best friend that I’m in love with?  What’s not to like?_ Clarke didn’t hesitate.  “I don’t need to think about it, Lex.  Yes.  I want to.  I’m in this, too.”

The brilliance of Lexa’s smile devastated Clarke.  She wrapped her arms around Lexa and hauled her in, meeting her halfway for a bruising, possessive kiss, both of them beyond words.  They twisted together in an ungraceful tangle of sweaty limbs and clashing teeth and slick wanting and fingers digging sharply into backsides.  They moved together in a frantic kind of joining, both of them approaching exhaustion, but desperate for each other’s emotional closeness and reassurance as much as for the physical release that racked their bodies as they fell apart into each other.    

*****

“Lex.  _Lexa_.”  Clarke sat on the edge of the bed and bent over Lexa’s body, still warm and heavy with slumber.  She laid a kiss on her shoulder and gave it a nudge.  “Time to get up.”  She started to stand, but Lexa snaked an arm around Clarke’s waist and prevented her from getting up. 

“Nooo…stay _here_ ,” Lexa whined.  She curled herself into a ball around Clarke and scrunched her face against Clarke’s hip. 

“So fucking adorable,” Clarke said under her breath with a fond smile, then shook her more firmly.  “Come on, babe.  We’ve gotta get ready to meet O and the others for brunch.”

Lexa huffed in protest, but released her and rolled onto her back.  She let loose a jaw-cracking yawn and unfurled in an almost-feline stretch, feet arching and back bowing in contentment.  She cracked her eyes to find Clarke watching her with barely-disguised lust.  A self-satisfied grin spread across her face and she crossed her arms behind her head, making no attempt to cover her nakedness.  She quirked an eyebrow.  “Is that really what you want, Clarke?” she asked in a sleep-roughened voice.

Clarke groaned.  “You know it’s not.  But we really do have to get up.  Besides, Harper will be back soon,” she added warningly. 

“I’m up!”

*****

By the time Lexa and Clarke showered, dressed, and packed up most of their things, Octavia had texted to say that she and the others had already gone to brunch.  They walked hand in hand  to the large open-air tent set up on the quad.  They spotted their friends and made their way over and greeted them. 

“Ohh, look who finally dragged out of bed,” Octavia teased.

“Yeah, I’m surprised the two of you are able to walk after the day you’ve had,” Raven said with a roguish grin. 

Clarke tossed her head with a huff.  “Whatever.  Like _any_ of you have room to talk.”

“Yeah, I’ve got one word for you, Raven,” Lexa said, pointing at her in mock sternness.  “ _Jacuzzi_.”  Raven clamped her mouth shut abruptly.  “Anyway, I’m too hungry to care.”  She cocked her head at Clarke, who nodded, and they both ventured to the buffet line and returned moments later with juice and plates piled high with greasy goodness.

Everyone dug into their meals and relaxed, enjoying the final few hours of each others’ company.  Raven started to go back for a second helping, but Anya motioned at her to stay put.  She got up instead.  “I’ll go.  What do you want?” 

“Waffles.  Oh, and a little more bacon.”

“You got it, babe.”  Anya smoothed Raven’s forehead with her palm and dropped a peck on her forehead before making her way back to the buffet.  Raven watched her walk away, completely oblivious to her friends’ observant eyes.  Clarke and Lexa looked at each other, wide-eyed and grins spreading across their faces.  Lexa started to speak up, but Clarke nudged her with her elbow and gave her a quick shake of the head.  _Not yet_.  Her eyes danced with mischief.  She caught Octavia’s expression across the table—rolling her eyes and mouthing “ _Heart Eyes_ ,”—and nearly laughed out loud.  They waited for Anya’s return in eager anticipation.

Anya finally returned bearing plates in hand and set one down in front of Raven.  “Thanks, babe.  Aww, you remembered that I like the strawberry topping instead of the syrup.”  Anya beamed at her.

Clarke couldn’t hold back any longer.  She began cracking up and Lexa quickly joined in.  Through their giggles they chanted, “Ra-ven and An-ya, sitting in a tree!  K-I-S-S-I-N-G!”  They roared with laughter at Raven and Anya’s red faces and confused expressions.  “You finally said it, didn’t you?” Clarke said smugly. 

“Said what?” Raven said evasively, avoiding their eyes.

“You said I _lovvve_ you.  You told her I _lovvve_ you,” Lexa singsonged.  She and Clarke made ridiculous kissy faces at Raven and Anya, who turned an impressive shade of pink. 

“Don’t try to deny it,” Octavia joined in, “I saw how you were last night.” 

“I’m not denying it!” Raven blustered.  “Ok, so…yeah…we might have said…things….”  She looked at Anya in mute appeal for rescue.

Anya stepped in.  She took Raven’s hand.  “I told her I love her,” she said firmly, “and she said she loves me back.”  Her face softened as she looked at Raven.

Octavia fist-pumped and shouted “Yes!” just as Lexa pointed at Clarke and said, “HA! I _win_!”

Raven and Anya looked at all of them in bewilderment.  “What the hell?” Raven said slowly.

“Lex and I made a bet last night on which of you would say it first.  I lost,” Clarke grumbled goodnaturedly. 

“That’ll be ten bucks, Clarke,” Lexa said triumphantly.  She leaned closer and her hot breath tickled Clarke’s ear.  “I’ll collect the rest of my winnings later.”  Clarke took a gulp of her juice and crossed her legs.

Anya looked embarrassed, but resigned.  Raven, however, was nearly speechless.  “You _bet_ on our _love_?” she forced out. 

Lexa brushed her off.  “Please.  We could all see it—it was just a matter of how long it would take you to _say_ it.”  She smirked sweetly at Anya.  “And you say _I’m_ communicationally challenged—I still managed to say it before _you_ did.”  She wrapped her arm proudly around Clarke’s shoulder.

Anya shook her head in mock defeat.  “But if Lexa won, what are you cheering for, Octavia?”

Octavia shot Lincoln a victorious glance and then preened at the group.  “Oh, Lincoln and I have had a bet going since Thursday night at the reception.  I bet you’d all tell each other I love you before the weekend was over.”  She grinned at Lincoln, who looked back ruefully.  “Get ready to pay up when we get home.” 

Clarke wrinkled her nose.  “Ew.  And you say _we’re_ gross—you guys have been married forever, I don’t even want to know what kind of kinky stuff you wager.”

Lincoln spoke up mildly, “Well, I’m stuck with doing all the laundry and running the kids back and forth to soccer practice for two weeks.  If I won, Octavia was going to wash my truck.”

“In my bikini,” Octavia confirmed in an aside to the group.

Lincoln groaned and dropped his head back, “ _Now_ you tell me!”

On that note, he and Octavia got up to make their farewells, citing a long drive ahead and eagerness to reunite with children.  They hugged all around.  Octavia gave Clarke an extra hard squeeze.  “I’m glad you finally got your shit together, Griffin.  I’m happy for you,” she whispered. 

Raven and Anya stuck around a little while longer before they, too, decided to hit the road.  “You’re riding back with Clarke, right?” Anya asked.  “I just assumed….”

“Yeah,” Lexa said, smiling. 

Anya smiled back and embraced her.  “Good for you, kid,” she said quietly. 

“You, too, Ahn.” 

“Are you guys heading back to the dorm?  We can walk over together,” Raven asked.

“No,” Clarke said quickly.  “Not yet.”  Lexa looked at her curiously, but said nothing. 

Raven said goodbye to Clarke and then turned to Lexa and hugged her.  “I better not go another twenty years without hearing from you.  Especially if you’re with this one,” she said, angling her head at Clarke.  Her eyes flashed with warning. 

“Don’t worry,” Lexa said with conviction.  “You’ll see a lot more of me—both of us—from now on.” 

“Good.  Because I have a security clearance and access to a robot army, and I’m not afraid to use them.”

After Anya and Raven took their leave, Clarke arched an eyebrow at Lexa and offered her an arm.  “We’ve still got some time before we have to check out.  Take a walk with me?”  Lexa smiled and looped her arm through Clarke’s.  She was so happy she could almost burst at finally, _finally_ , being able to call Clarke hers.  They ambled in comfortable silence up the quad, past buildings and dorms and spaces that held so many echoes of laughter and tears and self-discovery and heartache, content to soak in the memories, both pleasant and bittersweet.  Lexa didn’t realize Clarke was steering them in a specific direction until they rounded the corner into Wythe Dell.  Her feet faltered when Clarke guided her along the path that led to the bridge.  She knew about Clarke’s superstition.  _Is she really doing this?_

She hesitated.  “Clarke…where are we going?” 

“The bridge, Lex,” Clarke replied serenely. 

“But you always said—I mean, you never wanted to go _near_ it.”  Lexa’s heart began to thunder as she realized the import of Clarke’s gesture.

“I know.  That was before,” Clarke said simply.  She took both of Lexa’s hands and walked backwards onto the bridge, drawing an unresisting Lexa out with her.  She stopped in the middle and took Lexa in her arms.  “ _If you kiss your sweetheart in the middle of the bridge, you’ll be together forever_ , _but if you cross it alone, you’ll never marry_ ,” she quoted softly.  “I’ve only ever crossed this bridge at commencement.  I didn’t want to tempt fate.  I was a coward about my feelings back then, and I’ve regretted that so many times in the years since, through all the mistakes and miscommunications.  I’m not afraid any more.  I love you, Lexa Woods.”  Her voice shook a little and her whole body trembled.  Lexa held Clarke tighter, as much for her own composure as to reassure Clarke.  “I know this— _us—_ is really new and we’re kind of jumping in with both feet and that much is scary.”  She leaned her forehead against Lexa’s and closed her eyes, taking a steadying breath.  When she reopened them, she looked straight into Lexa’s, losing herself in their forest depths.  “But I trust you.  I trust that you’re in this with me, and whatever comes, we’ll figure it out, together.  And it doesn’t feel new to me, because you’re my best friend, and I’ve never stopped loving you,” she whispered fiercely.   

Lexa let out a strangled sob.  She didn’t bother wiping away the tears trickling down her cheeks.  “Clarke, you’re everything to me.  All those long years we didn’t talk…it killed me not to see you, hear your voice.  I never stopped loving you, either.” 

They melted together in mutual accord, arms gripping each other tightly, lips and tongues moving languidly, carefully, marveling at the newness of feelings so old.  They clung to each other long after the kiss broke, safe and warm and finally happy in each other’s arms. 

“Lex?”  Clarke mumbled against Lexa’s cheek.

Lexa nibbled at the corners of her mouth.  “Mmhmm?”

“You know this means we can’t ever split up, right?”  She eyed the water below and looked back at Lexa with an impish sparkle in her eyes.  “I mean, I don’t know about you, but I’m a terrible swimmer.”

Lexa snickered involuntarily and then kissed her thoroughly to put an end to her sass.  

“Shut up, Clarke.”


End file.
